Vile Fables For Progressive Children
by antvasima
Summary: A satire of destructive media, indoctrination, modern society, idolatry gone wrong, and a study in genuine evil, featuring a compelling, distinctive Nabiki as you have never seen her before.
1. Puppets and paper-dolls

With apologies to Rumiko Takahashi and Kosuke Fujishima. This turned into something entirely different.

Any similarity to existing people or organisations is probably coincidental, beyond archetypal significance.

ooo

This story was originally written and published from late 2006 to early 2008, well before, for example Kongoh Banchou, Medaka Box, Tokyo ESP, or Archer & Armstrong.

I would prefer if you read the entire story before offering constructive criticism, but anything is better than nothing.

Other reviewers have said that it swings wildly in quality between brilliant and mediocre, so please try to take the good with the bad. My personal favourite chapters were 4, 5, 9, 11, 13, and 15, and my least favourite ones were 6 and 7.

The second chapter contains a brief lemon segment, but that's it. So skip over it if you prefer.

All right then... Prepare to descend into the wonderful world of Nabiki Tendo.

"" = Talk () = Thought

ooo000ooo

Preface:

Once upon a time in the faraway kingdom of Japan there was a boy named Ranma, who was taken from his mother when very young. He and his father wandered all over Asia, to train, and train, and train in the martial arts. The boy came to meet many new friends, but they did not always agree on this point.

One day they visited a strange and mysterious place named Jusenkyo. It had magic springs that transformed anyone that fell in into whatever bathed there first. Now, when touching cold water, the father changes into a panda bear of very little brains, and Ranma is replaced with a twin sister.

After the journey, they visited Mister Tendo. He was an old training-friend to Ranma's father. Mister Tendo had three daughters. "Pick one to marry and carry on our school," the fathers said.

The oldest was Kasumi, who was gentle, caring, and motherly.

The youngest was Akane, who was strong, and noble, but had a fiery temper. Ranma learned to love her very much, and they helped each other through many troubles.

And then there was Nabiki...

ooo000ooo

"To be good, according to the vulgar standard of goodness, is obviously quite easy. It merely requires a certain amount of sordid terror, a certain lack of imaginative thought, and a certain low passion for middle-class respectability."

- Oscar Wilde

"The gulf between how one should live and how one does live is so wide that a man who neglects what is actually done for what should be done learns the way to self-destruction rather than self-preservation."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

"What is good? All that heightens the feeling of power, the will to power, power itself in man."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

"A building has integrity just like a man. And just as seldom."

- Ayn Rand

ooo000ooo

Urd, 11-dimensional entity, goddess of the past, embodiment of time, weaver of fate, chief system maintainer of reality, only daughter of the king of the gods and the queen of the demons, messiah and antichrist, potentially the fourth most powerful being in creation, owner of a ridiculously intimidating set of titles, and busybody of the highest order, felt mind-numbingly bored of monitor duty.

Lately when this was the case, she had recurrently "investigated" the particularly bug-infested area of Nerima Japan. The hijinks of a bunch of unhinged paranormal martial artists in particular usually provided her with some stray chuckles. However, her entertainment source was quickly turning dull and repetitive. Most of the "stage-actors" seemed locked in circular routines and wannabe relationships... without nearly any juicy stuff whatsoever! She would much prefer to shake up the status quo, and see what happened. The area was unusually blanketed in mostly non-harmful physics-distorting glitches, viruses and flawed coding, so some minor influence could usually be covered up as system repairs.

Unfortunately, any attempts to work outside the framework of plausibility and existing phenomena would be auto-corrected. Even minor subliminal messages, or superficially random happenstance to goad the pieces into a certain direction, could only be pulled off by the exceptionally skilled, and although Urd was not quite the best she certainly qualified for this category.

While she had done some odds-adjusting tinkering here and there, the indecisive Saotome kid remained the central node, and as such, had to be involved for any crucial disturbance, and a decision regarding the various girls that kept clinging to him would hardly provide a solution to the remaining entanglements.

Oh sure, he and his fiancée Akane genuinely cared for each other, they really did. However, their edgy drama routine had turned very old and predictable. The compulsive matchmaker in her would prefer if they both went on with their lives, and gained partners who helped them to evolve in interesting directions... and what Urd wants Urd usually gets... even if the affected parties occasionally didn't seem to appreciate her efforts.

On the other hand, she likely only had one shot for severe interference, and no real idea how to achieve widespread impact without turning the scenario too rigid and unfunny... She scrolled through any updates on the whereabouts and recent activities of any main players for some potential suggestions. She tapped her chin. "Well, well, someone certainly has kept herself busy... that could have some potential with the right tweak." It figured; never mind getting "something done right". When you want something done unexpectedly, always delegate it.

ooo000ooo

Ranma found himself by the Tendo kitchen table. There was something irregular about the walls and furniture, but it did not register as important. The contents of his plate outwardly resembled a bubbling blob of mixed black- and green-tinted toxic waste.  
"Please try it." Akane urged him.  
"It doesn't seem edible..." He mumbled.  
She nervously glanced down at the stew. "I worked for 4 hours to make this... There's lots of pistachio."  
"That explains the green parts. That stuff could try to bite my hand off. Can't you donate it to the army or something?"  
"Ryoga liked it."  
"He's unconscious on the floor, and he's way tougher than I am!"  
She took a tentative bite and recoiled in distaste. "I'm trying so hard, but it never works." She tried to stifle a tear.  
Ranma reflexively spluttered. "You're trying too hard with everything at once! You get too tense to actually develop any skills and turn into a nervous wreck!"  
"You jerk!" *POW!*  
The suddenly airborne young prodigy decided to enjoy the view, and rested his head against his arms, while he disappeared into the sky.

Ranma continued eating. Whatever he munched on carried a really nice taste.  
Someone stood behind the combined open grill and counter in front of him. "Ran-chan let's marry ok?" It was a familiar, friendly and dependable voice, with a pronounced Kansai accent.  
"Huh?"  
"...We'll have a nice picket fence, a red house, five children and a poodle named Kimba!"  
"Wait..."  
"...We'll build an okonomiyaki dojo. All of your students can buy dinner from me!"  
"Look Ucchan..."  
"...Maybe a pachinko parlour in one of the spare rooms..."  
"You barely know me. We haven't met since we were children!"  
"...And a big water-bed for... eh-he-he... the evenings... probably in a soundproof room..." The teenage food vendor was blushing in embarrassment, with an extremely anticipatory lustre to her face.  
"You have these starry-eyed daydreams of me and our future... I'm not even sure if I want to settle down or explore the world!"  
"We'll be so happy... What!?"  
"I'm not that reliable and unselfish a guy... Try to be realistic."  
The ninja-cook agitatedly grabbed the giant spatula strapped to her back. "How could you?!  
Betrayer! What about our children?! You said I was cute!"  
The heir to Anything Goes Martial Arts school gestured before his face in vain defence.  
"Ucchan, I thought it was going to give you faith in your femininity!"  
"Waaah! I never want to see you again!"  
Several okonomiyaki bombs simultaneously hit him and exploded.

Ranma tried another piece. It was ok, but not quite as good as the previous mouthful. A dragon adorned the collapsible wall in front of him.  
"Ranma like food?" This time he listened to a cheerful, girlish intonation, with thick Chinese dialect.  
"Yeah sure, what is it?"  
"Is Peking duck."  
He coughed. *Splffft!* "Duck? Sorry for a moment I thought..."  
"Is Mousse. He always annoy Shampoo and try stop from seeing you. Obstacle is for killing."  
Her naive and upbeat expression did not as much as twitch.  
"What the... That's just sick! You didn't just kill him; you had to eat him too?"  
The Amazon champion looked perplexed. "Shampoo no understand. Is good duck meat. Shame to waste."  
He had to get away and decide what to do. "...Look, I have to go home... The others will wonder if I return too late."  
"Is no problem. They no bother you."  
"What?"  
"Pervert girl, pancake girl, crazy girl, stupid panda, weird mama, and crying man not want you marry Shampoo. Greedy girl bother Shampoo before. Tried get pay for Ranma and took pictures. Housewife girl try stop Shampoo. Obstacle is for killing." Molten lava could have frozen from her innocent manner of stating it.  
"You monster! Are you serious? How did you keep the police from finding out?"  
"Used instant Jusenkyo on bodies. They pork now. Is good. We run out soon."  
Ranma froze up, with an increasingly blank stare. "Ucchan!? Kasumi!? Akane!? Oh gawd! Mom!?... I'm going to kill you."  
"Is not. Shampoo had fun but tired of game. You ate too-too much control mushroom."  
She clapped her hands as the hypnotic trigger. "You obey Shampoo all times ok?"  
*Clap!* "Stand still!"  
*Clap!* "Go with Shampoo to China!"  
*Clap!* "Learn language!"  
*Clap!* "Be good obedient husband!"  
She noticed his stricken face. "Ranma not worry. Shampoo will use memory shampoo to make forget old life. Airen will like. Others would take back if alive."  
She seemed to ponder something for a few seconds. "Shampoo love Ranma, but good spouse must be stern." She kicked him in the groin. "Is punishment for talk back to wife, and judge older culture."  
She walked toward the stairs. "We go flight in one hour." *Clap!* "Help pack bags!"  
Ranma obeyed.

He found it hard to think straight or make conscious movements. Painful spasms ravaged his muscles and an annoying itch pestered his skin.  
"I see that you're awake. It does so turn me on, seeing my Ranma-darling helpless, in pain, all mine, away from those other hussies!"

Something worried him with this tone. It was shrill and erratic, like whoever used it was not entirely awake.  
He strained to take in the surroundings. He seemed to be tied with chains to a torture rack!  
"Don't bother trying to escape. The concoction I fed you was quite potent."  
His captress licked a steel-tipped whip. "Now scream for your Kodachi-sama! Ooohohohohohohoho!"  
Several flashes of pain made the world go black again.

He was lying on a soft, pristine lawn. It was a clear day with a soft blue sky and a gentle breeze played with his hair.  
"Peaceful isn't it?" An aromatic melodious voice appeared from nowhere.  
"Yeah."  
"You know, as it stands, this isn't going to be resolved with a happy ending."  
Ranma remained silent, and simply continued to look at the passing clouds.  
"Your admirers being what they are, and your inability to cut them lose."  
He tiredly breathed out. "Phyeah."  
"I don't think they're right for you... or you for them in Akane's and Ukyo's case."  
"Maybe, but I'm out of ideas."  
"So what would you wish for in their stead?"  
"Wish? Wishing is lame."  
"Come on. Admit your desire."  
"Ok, whatever, I'll play along. I wish I had a girlfriend who could actually listen to me for once, and maybe help to handle this mess."  
"Granted."

Ranma woke up with a splitting headache, but, as is often the case with dreams, he forgot most of the contents within minutes.

ooo000ooo

Urd was happy. Her personal involvement may have been restricted to minor probability modifications, but with her carefully arranged official prerogative matters were very different indeed. Fortunately, repeatedly saving the life of Akane, some children, and even helping enemies out of tight spots, at the risk of his own, barely made him legible for a wish despite various character flaws. Naturally, so were several million others, usually with the few recipients randomly picked, with likelihood in relation to karma level and potential contents of the request. Wishes were intended to be an in-built system balance to the horrors plaguing the world. Thus they were usually granted to great humanitarians who dreamed of creating successful charity organisations or world-improving inventions (world peace would circumvent free will, which was not desirable and similarly vast changes would direct a wasteful degree of system capacity to enforce), with all recollection of the incident removed afterwards.

However, to avoid feelings of detachment, apathy and helplessness from silently overlooking the world without interfering, high-level goddesses did earn a small quota of people they could cherry-pick among the acceptable candidates every century or so. As a bonus feature in case they wanted to help a struggling friend they had socialised with or someone they had taken a like to. Heroes of legend sometimes belonged to this category. Descents to Earth were rare nowadays, so it was more of a forgotten rule, which had not been rectified since few were expected to use it, but it still existed. Her sister had used the opportunity (to snatch a childhood friend) and now so did she.

Of course, Urd's view of the "ideal" available girlfriend material, meaning the one with greatest potential to twist her current pastime into uncharted territory, was coloured by her own biases, and the just revealed angle of the premise itself. The power of the wish was still in proportion to the subject's combined virtuous nature and actions, so it would turn far more influential if she worked within the framework, and used available local power sources.

She skimmed through the presented data. (The profile says that for various reasons, the subject endeavoured to seal off or incapacitate the sections of her brain enabling conscience and compassion ever since her mother died. She now gains satisfaction from revelling in her ability to deceive, rob, and terrorise others through as limited exertion as possible, and without any negative personal consequences. It gives her profit, sadistic entertainment, luxury, and an orgiastic sense of power... Hmm, she almost makes me look like a saint in comparison... In any case, she will turn any boyfriend mental in no time with that attitude. Let's see what I can do about it!)

ooo000ooo

Nabiki sneezed. She lost focus on the item at her desk and sat up in bed. "My Super Sweet 16" was making noise in the background. She used her remote to flip off the interference. It's not like she was in a particular hurry. The other household members were out on various errands and would not be back for a few hours. If she had waited several days for an opportunity to avoid inadvertent eavesdropping, she could suspend it for another 20 minutes. It was better to stick with routine than get lost in excitement and make a mistake. Time to make some easy hard cash!

At least this day had been pretty lucrative. She had sent Shampoo, Kodachi and Ukyo out of context doctored pictures of Ranma supposedly being nuzzled by their rivals. Mousse and Kuno-chan had similarly received a copy each of the ones featuring Shampoo and Akane respectively. Hinako was informed that he was skipping schoolwork to pick up babes, and Happosai that Ranma was stealing lingerie from his collection. She had then sent Ranma on an errand to the specified location and filmed the ensuing imbroglio. For a while, it actually looked like Ranma might be killed in the melee. But Ryoga had characteristically unexpectedly showed up from the ground, despite curiously staying out of sight for the past few months, didn't like to see anyone being bullied, punted Kuno-chan & Mousse into the horizon through a single attack, and leapt away with Ranma over his shoulder while the girls were kept busy trying to stomp Happosai for glomping them. It was rather amusing overall. She thought that the movie had a fair chance to claim a spot at a talk show or possibly a "funniest home video" award. At the very least, it should be a hit online and gain her nice advertisement revenues or even some lucrative attention from foreign parties if she played her cards right. Maybe she could direct some humiliation themed TV productions?

She did not completely lack funds, but almost all of them were tied up in personal investments. Regretfully she could not add the house and dojo as extra collateral without her father's knowledge. He was a sentimental idiot and she doubted that it would be very hard to gain access to his financial papers or faking his signature, as long as she did not provide him with reasons for suspicion. Nevertheless, she also was not very experienced and for once did not dare to risk being exposed and disowned through mishap or professional accounting reviews. It wouldn't matter if a great loss sent her family into the poorhouse; she had done that before without blinking. Technically Akane would likely get to inherit the dojo and Kasumi the house, but from a practical standpoint, she needed a few years of education before even daring to make an attempt. In addition, he provided her with free room and board. With market rates being what they were, she would rather not risk to pay for that by her own means. If nothing else, there was always an advantage to order delivered take-away on his credit. Perhaps she should have remained engaged to Ranma after all, to sell off the inheritance and play for the rest of her life as she had originally planned? ...No, it had turned too dangerous to be targeted by his unhinged admirers, and she did not want to limit her "romantic" options until attaining the eventual point of divorce.

Perhaps she could simply offer to become his agent as a Hong Kong movie star, Hollywood stuntman, or popular showman? It was not as if he had many other prospects, and it would be ridiculously easy to trick him into giving her the main cut or eventually sign over all the proceeds and potential assets. Maybe an early death could cause the memorabilia prices to skyrocket? It worked for Bruce Lee... She could let Ryoga think Ranma had raped Akari, or was that too farfetched even for him? Decisions, decisions... (Stop dreaming! I would need a few years of network building first. Better to deal with the present.)

(Oh well. Time to be spoiled by someone else's money!)  
She picked up the phone. "Hi Yoshi-chan! You doing anything?"  
She nonchalantly twirled the cord around her finger. "Uh-huh..."  
"I was thinking of you too..."  
"That's so sweet of you to say..."  
"I'm feeling lonely and have nothing to do tomorrow..."  
"Really? You too?"  
"Dinner for two at 5 then..."  
"Hey, real ladies like men who can show them a good time..."  
"Sure, 5 o'clock in the shopping district..."  
"Thinking of you. Bye." *Click!*

"They're sooooooo stupid. Leave it to the really rich kids to compare dick size through how much they can spend on their girlfriends."

"And now for some follow-up" She lifted the receiver again.  
"Fusao-chan!"  
"I feel so sad since you left me..."  
"You wound me..." She theatrically put a hand at her chest despite the lack of visual audience.  
"I need some emotional support to soothe my heartache..."  
"Yeah, you know those pictures?"  
"I think that it's important to be honest with each other..."  
"Kikyo deserves to know how you used and threw me away behind her back..."  
"Is that any way for a gentleman to talk?"  
"Uh-huh..."  
"50,000 Yen? You remember my account number right?"  
"I feel so much better now Fusao-chan. I'm really glad we could have this chat..."  
"Ok. Love you. Buh-bye." *Click!*  
"Whooo I feel hot!" She strolled over to the wardrobe.  
"Now to pick which evening dress I should use to blow out poor Yoshi-chan's minuscule brains?"

Usually she was content to 'loan' clothing from her sister, but this was not the type that Akane would be inclined to wear. It was an unpleasant, but necessary sacrifice. At least most of the collection consisted of gifts from admirers.

Nabiki was mostly satisfied with her success-rate in gradually suppressing any tendencies to useless emotional reactions (They had overcome and broken her father into a loathsome sentimental, weak, useless, overprotective, undignified, snivelling wretch! His meagre incomes limited to savings, irregular dojo classes, renting it out for social meetings, and go-to-guy community odd jobs or enforcement, stuck in a rut of perpetual anxiety for his children's wellbeing, the "legacy" of his school, and woefully useless for amassing opulence) or inclinations for idealistic self-sacrifice (It crippled her elder sister's quality of life! She was repressed, self-denying, dull, and stagnant. The antithesis to everything valuable in civilisation!), and had thus far succeeded beyond a certain lingering nostalgia for her dead mother. She recognised their usefulness as humorous frailties to exploit, but that was it. When puberty kicked in full force, it turned much harder in certain respects and she used to lust for well-travelled, rich and good-looking men, but as always, she had eventually curbed any co-dependent maidenly feelings, and directed the experience to her own advantage. By now, her base sexuality was controlled and efficient, but she did appreciate how to use her appeal to the disadvantage of any potential suitors, and received a certain erotic stimulation from the thrill of power and control.

After making a decision, she sat down at the desk, and once again contemplated the object in front of her. A few photographs of Ranma working out were spread about around it. She would have to select whichever Kodachi might find appealing.

Contrary to certain beliefs, although she took extreme pride in herself, she had no illusions about being either a genius, or even particularly good at schoolwork. Oh sure, she was reasonably intelligent and did ok, but she did not have the soul-oppressing drive of her younger sister, and could not compete with a nation of elite students all immersed in a cram school mentality during their every waking moment. She liked to actually enjoy herself whenever she could. Her strengths lay in keeping a cool head; thinking on her feet, lack of ethical restraints, using other people's imperfections to her advantage, an interest for economics, and an enterprising spirit for maximum profit through minimum effort. In short, by the extreme local standards she was at heart sloppy, comfort-addicted, and an individualist aberration in a very conformist society, or simply a two-bit huckster, depending on whom you asked.

Once accepted to a prestigious enough financial institution she reckoned that she'd manage quite satisfactory, and could apply for exchange programs abroad, to avoid the native female glass ceiling, "work here until you die" asphyxiating pyramid business structure, and most importantly: the incredibly high conviction rate. The Japanese legal system didn't leave much room for "reasonable doubt". However, as matters stood she likely would not make the cut, and it would severely strain her assets to pay for tuition at even a very moderately renowned foreign university. Still, her only recourses would be to manage the finances of a barely surviving dojo, hazard to live off her investment money, become a pathetic housewife or a hopeless office lady! Fortunately, she had access to certain esoteric information and resources unavailable to her peers. It had taken quite a bit of work, but could potentially augment her talents to near invincibility and open any path she desired! ...Potentially... There were no guarantees when chaotic magic was involved.

According to her data the springs of Jusenkyo could mix curses, be dug and imprinted in present day, and even confer characteristic abilities associated with a well-known mythological creature simply by immersing a representative image that had served as an object of faith. The effects could also be made permanent by a magic ladle, but it had unfortunately been destroyed. The foundation of the springs lay in Jusendo Mountain, which should make the magic pure, raw, unspecified and extra powerful. She had used one of her scarce contacts to abduct a small but old shrine statue portraying a well-known type of Shinto nature spirit, while corresponding with the local tour guide about methods to fully control of a curse. At first, he had been baffled by the question, but went through the dusty old chronicles, since her family had helped him in the past.

He eventually informed her about an ancient previous allegedly successful attempt accomplished by destabilising and empowering the magic through a mixture with equal amounts of unimprinted source water, and some measure of rare curse-locking water from the now destroyed ladle previously possessed by the Musk dynasty, which he had been fortunate enough to bottle during prince Herb's visit several months back, and then ingesting the mixture while in a state of intense focus on the intent. Satisfied with the answer she travelled to China, paid the guide for a little Musk water and to dig an ample well in a safe spot, waited until it was sufficiently saturated from the soil, immersed the sculpture, and carefully sampled equal parts of liquid from this and a pre-existing spring into a small container. There had been some trouble when the guide proved reticent to help her gather source water out of fear from its guardians, the Phoenix tribe, but that nuisance had been taken care of by threatening to leak information about his and his daughter's previous involvement. She had arrived back at the Japanese airport just a few days ago.

Yes, everything would turn out just fine. She cleared her head of all qualms and distractions, focused on her greatest dream, and took a large swig. Unfortunately, the guide did not take kindly to threats to his family and had added a measure of two additional springs into the concoction.

A sudden wave of nausea caused Nabiki to lose her footing. She barely managed to direct her momentum towards the bed to avoid injury. An intense tide of doubts and regrets began to cascade across her mind.

Was it really a good thing to use and abuse people who had never hurt her in the slightest, just because she could? There had been so many throughout the years that she had lost count. A trail of broken hearts, emptied wallets, public humiliations, false allegations, destroyed reputations, shattered minds, arranged 'accidents', and life-threatening conflicts. She had helped to nearly drive her younger sister mad as a source of diversion and some extra cash, and even destroyed her wedding just to get presents! She had been willing to ruin her family for the sake of petty pride! Ranma had saved her life and she still used him as a slave for rental! She had been willing to frame him for assault and attempted rape just to watch him squirm! She even traded his female form to the Yakuza to pay off gambling debts! Her father was a mentally unbalanced, manic-depressive wreck without money for either personal therapy or to finance Kasumi's education. She had made enough from investments to help them out, yet still didn't care about spending daddy's limited finances on expensive fast food, selling his beloved dojo to live on the funds, or stealing her sister's clothes to avoid paying for them herself...

She directed several hard slaps towards her own face.  
"Ok girl, get a hold of yourself... You can do this. You've done it before, many times. It's easy, like getting rid of old garbage... Deep breaths... Remember... Empathy is the enemy. Nice people finish last. Pity is for losers... Conscience is weakness and self-indulgence... You enjoy life best when you don't care... The victor decides what's right and wrong... Altruism is a self-delusion... Take it out on someone else... Do it to them, before they do it to you... It's the law of the jungle... The weak are meat... The strong eat... Show me the money... Always look out for number one... I'm just self-centred... Greed works... It's not me... it's just the system... Mercy only brings... lawsuits... "Good" will... always... lose... because... it'ssss...  
sssstupid... Aaaauuuhhhhaa!" She reflexively grasped her head as the excruciating pressure overwhelmed her efforts.

ooo000ooo

Urd hummed as she revised Nabiki's profile, which, given that this was the computer whose software not only defined but constituted reality itself, truly encompassed the girl's entire essence. The installation of compassion- and conscience-levels comparable to an altruistic idealist had initially created nervous shock, but was quickly being stabilised by automatic sub-routines. She cheerfully continued to compose her assessment of a refreshing optimised girlfriend.

Nabiki came to her senses again just in time to find her body beginning to shift and contort on its own accord. The involuntary hysteria had somehow abated, but she was beginning to feel atypically baffled by this development.

(Let's see. Guys like feminine women.) "Verbal directive 1: No body hair below the nose!"  
Nabiki scratched her back. (How did my clothes suddenly turn so itchy?)  
(Yeah, that's the spirit.) "Verbal directive 2: Smooth, unblemished complexion!"  
"Oww!" To feel all ones skin simultaneously straighten out might have that effect.  
"Verbal directive 3: Increase total bosom volume by 1.5! Round, firm and perky! Small nipples! Equalise outline!"  
"Oww! Oww! Oww! Oww! Owwwwww!" Her shirt had already been more than tight enough, and the back was starting to hurt.  
(Mature and foxy is good.) "Verbal directive 4: Legs 1.4x length of remaining body!"  
"Whoa!" (As if the weight in front was not enough!) Nabiki waved her arms while trying to stay upright.  
"Verbal directive 5: Trim, tight butt!"  
"Ouwp!" (Careful. I almost lost balance there.)  
"Verbal directive 6: Elastic dancer stomach!"  
(Now I feel nauseous as well. Did I eat something inappropriate?)  
"Verbal directive 7: Curved, high-heeled feet!"  
"Ouch!" That was the final blow. Nabiki fell backward straight on her behind. "...And now I'm officially freaked out."

"You are quite le amateur. How is the poor girl even supposed to walk?" A refined, ladylike voice interrupted the procedure.  
Urd spun around her office chair. "Peorth? When did you get here?"  
"Oh, I noticed that some discourteous personage was overreaching her assigned jurisdiction, and entered into mine sans demander. I trans-shifted locations shortly afterwards."  
"Meaning: You've monitored everything, but just arrived?"  
"Mm-hmm."  
"You know that I am the head sys-admin and haven't used up my quota right?"  
"Yes, well I am the head of direct assistance to and interaction with the mortal plane. You should have briefed me about your intentions. Dream-spinning alone is extremely questionable."  
(Typical.) Urd generally liked Peorth, she was a benevolent and hard-working goddess with similar tastes to herself, but also a stickler for procedure and hated to feel disrespected. Worse, she could easily shut this down. Thankfully, she had an edge. Whereas Peorth was limited to misdirection, Urd could lie.  
"Well, I knew that you would be automatically notified of all potential interference. There was no chance that a professional like you would ever slack off her duties. I simply assumed that my small pastime shouldn't preoccupy your busy schedule."  
"Well then, that's different, but I don't mind une petite pause. You are obviously not used to this."  
"What's that supposed to...? ...Sure."  
"I endeavoured to signify that some are able to distinguish between excess and elegance."  
"Some apparently don't have any choice."  
"Ohohohohoho... shut up."

"If I may continue... Verbal directive 8: Permanent healthy light brown hue! Blue eyes! Light blond hair!""  
Nabiki sat on the floor, studying her hand, and holding some stray tresses. (Which nationality am I supposed to be of anyway?)  
"That's exactly what I am talking about! You are trying to turn her into yourself!"  
"And that's bad because...?"  
"Beyond not being able to move through other means than crawling? Because she is Japanese, and nobody will be able to recognise her with so many modifications! You will have to stick with subtlety...

Verbal command: Override: Section Authority: Goddess First Class Unlimited, Peorth!"  
"Hey!"  
"Verbal directive 9: Undo verbal directive #4, #7, #8! Multiply #3 by 0.8!"  
"Why did you get rid of the tan?  
"Too glaring. Besides, why is a tan associated with health?" She theatrically embraced herself. "L'oh, I have a tan! My skin is crusty and I may get cancer! Hug me and get chafed!"  
"Because natural mulatto pigmentation is intuitively associated with a healthy, diversified genes supply, efficient Vitamin-D and melanin production, and connected inherent burn resistance?"  
"Too bad that nobody informed you that blond hair and blue eyes are recessive traits then. Your manifestation form isn't exactly inconspicuous."  
"Thanks! It's always nice to confirm it."

Nabiki tried to clear her head. (Ooohhkay, I seem... mostly... back to normal.) She managed to stand up. (Ok, so far so good. Let's assess what's happened.)  
"Verbal directive 10: Milky-cream lustrous, velvety skin! Gentle eyes, under thick lashes, with an impish, erotic glint! Supple, pink, pouting lips!"  
Nabiki stood before the wardrobe mirror. She lifted an eyebrow. "I seem to metamorphose into a painted Barbie doll."  
"Oh yes, now you're turning her into yourself instead. Why not make them cherry-flavoured while you're at it?"  
"At least it's more restrained than what you had in mind. Verbal directive 11: Elastic tongue!"  
Nabiki unstuck a sticky, damp object from the top of her brow. (...A Barbie-doll successfully impersonating a frog.) "Ou can au! Ich ich nok changy!"  
"...Peorth... look... that one is really not necessary. Check the enhancements I had selected for the next step."  
"...Oh! Well... d'accord alors. Verbal command: Jump section! Verbal directive: Upload prepared traits: kitsune, replica, empath, mender!"  
Nabiki promptly turned into a featureless pink blob on the floor. Her usual enforced veneer of dignity and sarcasm literally slipped out of her grasp. Fear and panic quickly replaced any quaint charm she had perceived in the previous situation. She could not move! She could not see! She could not talk! She had no control! (What did I ever do to deserve this? ...Don't answer! ...I really wish that I were back to normal!)

She tried to visualise herself sitting on the bed, in the casual clothes she wore when this begun, and dissipate this obvious hallucination... and suddenly she was! (Ok... that's fine... that's good... everything is all right.)  
She picked up the closest notebook and begun to write down the experience for her regular psychotherapy session... regular beginning tomorrow that is... until she remembered that she neglected to retrieve a pen. She looked down at the written text, then to her forefinger, and repeated the motion. (This has definite possibilities!)  
She envisioned her hand in the shape of a mallet. (So far, so good.)  
She managed to make give it the semblance of a mobile phone, but not to make it work. (No advanced technology, which I cannot thoroughly comprehend... at least not yet... Does that include even more intricate biological mechanisms? I have managed to put myself back to normal, so I guess not. Perhaps similar enough structures are auto-patterned after my base?)  
She made a few minor tests by reconverting to the beautified version of herself seen in the mirror (minus the tongue!) and creating various elegant dresses. (Oh yeah! The high-society boys are going to eat their hearts out for my attention!)  
To contrast she tried to imagine Kasumi and Hinako beside her in the same attire... and suddenly appeared to both be and not be in several places at once. It was hard to describe, but on one level she was aware of the actions of several people and on another had three separately thinking and acting minds. She took the opportunity to make comparisons and, after convincing herself as being superior to either her sister or the bombshell schoolteacher, she put herself back together. (Never mind all the initial silliness, my gamble has paid off far beyond expectation! It worked! It worked! It worked! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!)

Emboldened, she speedily borrowed the image of various female celebrities, combined their characteristics and increased or decreased her volume and mass. (Oh yeah... the inheritance.) It no longer seemed relevant, but she made an attempt to mimic Soun's features just to make sure. (No result huh?) She did not really care, but mentally outlined various other males, still unsuccessfully. She shrugged. She had a strong female identity and would not have enjoyed turning into men, and she would hardly need it. As for her family, that was even less important. Let them all keep their little breadcrumbs. It did not concern her any more. She had evolved so far beyond them that it wasn't funny!

This embodied every opportunity she had ever dreamed about! She could seduce any man to do her bidding, or just dispose of his girlfriend/mistress/wife and use the identity! Once she obtained that memory-adjusting formula, she would rewrite recollections to smoothly invade, disappear or forge backgrounds as she saw fit! She could masquerade as nearly anyone she wished, exploit their resources as her own through complete identity theft, or use them as scapegoats for anything she felt like! She had no accountability whatsoever, and could freely use society as her personal playground by using non-existent personas! She could pay for elite studies abroad and enroll for multiple occupations at once, without feeling that she neglected any subject, and simultaneously explore every pleasure and experience the Earth had to offer! She could even start over and re-live her childhood, if she ever felt inclined! (This is exhilarating! I beat the casino! I'm free! Free! Free! Take that world!)

No! That was the old Nabiki speaking! It made her nauseous to hear such filth! She would never do such horrible things or desert her family! This was a wonderful gift. She shouldn't simply squander it for personal gain, but use it to help and support those she loved! ...Though it seemed harmless to study many subjects. She could use it to work for several times the pay, which she could send to her family, or donate to charitable purposes, and amass diversified knowledge that could benefit mankind. Yes! She should be open and honest with them about this opportunity, contact a wholesome modeling agency, outline her unique talents and offer her services. This should give her enough capital to pay her father's debts, support treatment  
for him and her younger sister, rent a maid and send Kasumi to study medicine abroad! She could relocate and turn into a Hong Kong and Hollywood stuntwoman! It wasn't fair to let others put themselves at jeopardy if she could easily withstand and mend ordinary forms of damage. Perhaps she could become a hostage negotiator? No, that was for later. She didn't have the trai... "What the fuck is this!?"

ooo000ooo

Urd rested her head on her hands. "The auto-stabilisers barely managed to handle that. The girl is experienced in circumventing any signs of scruples."  
"Oui, but I wonder something: If she was intended to freely switch guises, what was the point of the previous trouble?"  
"...Fun?"  
"So you lost track again?"  
"Don't ask a question that you already know the answer to."

"...Be that as it may. I'm concerned about the ethics of this endeavour."  
"Oh?"  
"We are not supposed to force people to follow our path, simply enlighten or inspire them."  
"Whereas the opposition feels no such compunctions whatsoever, disdainfully calls your  
lessons of kindness "self-righteous preaching", while gladly doing the same in the reverse  
direction, and any vastly more severe violations are somehow deemed fully acceptable in  
comparison?"  
"Oui, that is our cross to bear, or it will all become meaningless. The road to perdition..."  
"...Is most definitely paved with bad intentions... I should know. That citation can either be read as a passivity-inducing precaution, or as cynical propaganda for even greater amounts of murderous ruthlessness instead of trying the alternatives. "A clever saying does not prove a point, including this one." "  
Peorth allowed herself a fond smile. "That's a mishmash of different quotes, and you're enough of a hypocrite to attempt to justify your own "dirty hands for my greater good" by lambasting that very philosophy."  
"Allegories are not remotely facts, quotable or not, and I didn't say that I either completely disagreed with the precaution, or minded to get my hands dirty, if it seems like the best solution. I just don't buy into either absolute. Especially not the implication that benevolence is worse than malevolence... Don't worry though; as you've seen, she can fight down her reinforced impulses, but no longer ignore them. I've simply allowed her a truly two-ended  
viewpoint, instead of remaining an 'emotional cripple'."  
"So you have given her multiple personality disorder?"  
"Not quite. "Mood-swings" might be more accurate. It could turn amusing to watch."  
"And your formula differs from giving a drug addict 10 pounds of cocaine and saying "You're on your own"?"  
"Yes. Her running program will help her learn to alleviate the tension from access to genuine power."  
"So what gives you the right to interfere?"  
"What gives anyone the right to do anything? I see her as a career criminal that is finally caught and given an enormous gift, and a chance for redemption, on the provision that she doesn't terrorise people. The downside is that it takes far greater strength to successfully carry a sincere conscience than to discard it, and if she gives in to her basest nature and goes too far, a failsafe ensures that she instantly looses the advantage. Accidentally letting lose one terror on the world was quite enough, thank you, and even without completely running amok she's still going to be much better off than before."  
"Combined positive and negative reinforcement, which eventually gives her equilibrium somewhere in the middle, but constant awareness of the edges, much like yourself?"  
"Except that I was born into my yoke, that this is much better than she deserves, and is an infinitely lighter burden to wear."  
"Your angel has turned more white than black Urd, but it was your choice to make."  
"Yes and no. I was influenced and inspired by my mostly one-sided surroundings like everyone else. We all get heavily conditioned. It's just about if you're willing to work with that, be content to let your virtues lose all merits by opposing propaganda, simply stick to technical evaluation results, or, as in this case, bother to "deprogram" others, which of course is also a concept relative to your nature and viewpoint. She still has a choice, but has to take both sides into account... Now, if you're quite satisfied, as a final touch..." Her face took a gleeful, terrifying bent. "...I'll show you an authentic mind-fuck!"

ooo000ooo

Nabiki once again sat down at the desk to collect her thoughts. What was wrong with her today? It was almost like that recent incongruous nightmare where she used all her earnings to pay her father's bills and somehow managed to be jealous that her diligent, but flustered kid sister was so 'popular' and 'spoiled' due to the boys attacking her every morning. Nabiki herself took the role of a woefully inadequate, pitiful, dateless romantic, who waited for someone to 'rescue her from her fate' and "ice-queen façade". Pshaw, as if she'd ever need to rely on anyone else for that, or didn't need to keep her suitors away with a shovel. Her only "façades" were the ones she simulated to fleece them for everything they were worth. The very notions filled her with enough contempt to actually recall the particulars after she awakened.

No scratch that, this was even worse! It was a once in a lifetime occasion, but she was turning into her pointlessly self-neglecting elder sister. She replicated her features and took on an overstated vacuous expression, while wearing a tiara, a sailor skirt, and holding a golden baton... with a small vacuum cleaner at the end? "Wheee! I'm Kasumi the magic girl! I'm going to make the world a better place through rainbows, happy thoughts, sunshine, hugs, and cotton candy, and will die a bitter, unfulfilled spinster... since the world... doesn't... work... for... stupid... fucking... martyrs! Aaaaah!"

She struck the desk hard enough to send a few of the spread about photographs into the air. (Right...Kodachi's collection. Routine is good to get out of my funk. Tendo Nabiki does not lose her cool. If I'm suddenly too touchy-feely to truly expand my repertoire, at least I can stick to habit.)  
She shifted back and inspected the images of Ranma in action. Doing a one-hand stand, working out, training with his father... (The useless, pathetic, obnoxious, undignified, idiotic jock. Good for nothing but aimlessly running around, hitting things, taking up space, eating my food, and making a disgraceful fool of himself, or herself, whichever the case may be. At least he's good for entertainment and embarrassingly easy to manipulate. People like him are begging to be used like the foolish cattle they are. How can Akane or any of the other idiotic, puerile brats ever find him fascinating? Why that... Yes, perhaps there is something alluring in his demeanour. Why couldn't I see that before? He's so strong! So healthy! So kind! So forceful! I wish he'd enter on a white horse and save me from my loneliness! He'd take me in his arms and hold me forever! I need him! I want to comfort him, and snuggle him, and support him, and love him, and help him, and heal him, and save him from all the troubles of the world!) Several minutes of passionate fantasies soon followed.

Nabiki eventually woke up from her trance, and began to wipe the perspiration and drool off her face. This wasn't so bad after all. So maybe she seemed a bit more guilt-ridden than usual, but this wonderful new feeling easily more than compensated it. Nabiki licked her lips in anticipation as she catalogued all the new exciting ways she could use to catch her boyfriend-to-be. Ranma had yet to come home to recover from his previous ordeal. Ryoga had likely managed to carry him a few hours of travel-time away from the dojo before he came to. She smirked, opened the door, and went out to prepare a proper welcoming ceremony.

"Merde. And just when I thought that this couldn't turn more bizarre. You've shifted her attitude towards him nearly 180 degrees from its usual direction. "Spring of Drowned Kitsune"... "Twins"... "Virtuous Woman"'... and now "Utterly Devoted Wife"... to be imprinted on the first man she sees?! Sometimes you genuinely frighten me Urd."  
"Hah! And don't you forget it!"  
"And what fell outside this pattern..."  
"...Were tweaked or supercharged reminiscent enchantments, or empowered by the wish itself, and remnant raw Jusendo magic."  
"Along with a database filled with specified talents, erotic expertise, and assorted notable faces and demeanours?"  
"It would be a shame to let her remain an amateur."  
"So what if her father or Genma had entered her room?"  
"...I don't want to imagine it."  
"Nevertheless, this outrageous travesty was bad enough. I'm putting you on 'observe but don't touch' restriction. No more wishes, no dreams, no descent to lower planes, no direct interference whatsoever! They'll have to manage on their own. You are most definitely out of the picture."  
"I can live with that." (Since you didn't mention any routine causality tuning...)

ooo000ooo

Coming up:  
Ranma goes into sex therapy.

ooo000ooo


	2. Rub-a-dub-dub - Your brain is in the tub

ooo000ooo

"Love is an expression and assertion of self-esteem, a response to one's own values in the person of another. One gains a profoundly personal, selfish joy from the mere existence of the person one loves. It is one's own personal, selfish happiness that one seeks, earns, and derives from love."

- Ayn Rand

"What a fuss people make about fidelity! Why, even in love it is purely a question for physiology. It has nothing to do with our own will. Young men want to be faithful, and are not; old men want to be faithless, and cannot: that is all one can say."

- Oscar Wilde

"Men in general judge more from appearances than from reality. All men have eyes, but few have the gift of penetration."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

ooo000ooo

Ranma sat alone in the large Tendo bath, attempting to nurse his wounds. He was tired of the attractive women trying to conquer him through forceful brutality. At the same time, especially at his age, it was hard not to become enticed by so many young gorgeous females showing him attention... but he didn't get any release! If he so much as cuddled with any of them, it would immediately bring immense obligations and might kill them both. He had mostly avoided resolving the predicament out of jumbled sympathy for hurt feelings, general indecisiveness, and since it boosted his self-esteem, but when his own wedding was disrupted it had become clear that he couldn't keep on indefinitely. He took a deep breath, tried to push away his frustrations, and savoured his one moment of calm solitude.

(...Something isn't right.) A faint, melodious titter barely registered through his sensitive ears. The water of the tub started to swirl and exert pressure toward his skin. Streams began to climb his chest and back and softly massaged aching muscles. Ok, that was weird, but oddly relaxing at the same time. Soft rhythmic caresses were simultaneously delivered on his legs, stomach, arms, chest, back... and some very peculiar movements were applied to his groin and quickly swelling member. He caught a faint puff and a nibble on his left ear, and then felt a gentle kiss on his mouth, a lick on his chest... This had gone far enough. "Show yourself! "

Several water-pillars rose and coalesced into patterns, taking familiar, feminine crystalline shapes, to reveal emerging dripping wet bodies underneath. "Shampoo?" "Ucchan?" "Kodachi?" "Akane?!" "Hinako?!" "Kasumi?!" "Rouge?!" "Kiima?!" Wait a moment, Akane's bosom wasn't that big, and her expression and posture made her look more elegant, seductive and feminine than he had ever seen her, similar to that one time when she had been possessed by a cursed doll spirit. Also, Kiima looked wholly human, without the characteristic talons and why would she, Hinako, Kasumi or particularly Rouge ever have an interest in him? He had possessed an idle daydream or two about them over the months, but this didn't make any sense. Were any of their skins ever so lustrously creamy-smooth? There almost seemed to be an unnatural allure to them.

Akane broke off his thoughts by pressing her chest against his own and giving him a full kiss on the mouth. Her lips were small and soft with a hint of strawberry taste. Her touches made satin seem rough in comparison. Her breasts were firm, round and perfectly proportioned. This was an Akane he had barely dreamed about. She added tongue, while Shampoo and Ukyo gigglingly pressed themselves against his sides and directed his paralysed arms towards Akane's delicate back to grasp her wonderful body towards his own. Kasumi, Kodachi and Hinako straddled his legs in positions of adulation and began to teasingly stroke, kiss and blow at his manhood, to finally place it between their bosoms and lick it with their tongues, expertly keeping him on the edge.

"Raanmmaaa" Akane panted in his ear. "Isn't this nice?"  
His discipline and inhibitions were quickly breaking apart.  
"Isn't this what you've always dreamed about?"  
Repressed accumulated torrents of lust were finally released, and he ground himself against Akane, while Shampoo & Ukyo massaged, licked and caressed his body, Kasumi, Kodachi and Hinako played his member like a violin, even as Kiima and Rouge gave him an impassioned show in the background.  
"Everyone getting along... showing how much we care for you?" Her voice sounded husky and melodious.  
"Nobody hurting or condemning you." There was something wrong with her smell. It was too sweet... He felt more intoxicated than he should... "I like you sooo much."  
He reflexively tried to mount her. She casually avoided the attempt, smiled sweetly and massaged his manhood between her legs and butt cheeks, while the others continued their ministrations.  
"Do you like me?" Her deep, beautiful eyes looked into his. He felt like he was drowning. There was something wrong wasn't there? He couldn't remember. It couldn't have been anything important.  
"Just lie back and relax dear." He went limp and fell to his back.  
"We'll take care of everything." All of them descended on him. Slick as oil, smoother than silk, soft as feathers.  
"We want you so badly." Grinding. Stroking. Nursing. Hugging. Kissing. Licking. Panting. Blowing. Moaning. Giggling.  
"Let us worship you." All delivered in a coordinated erotic dance, simultaneously exploring every crevasse of his body. It was almost too much to take in.

They soon began to take turns with different functions. Shampoo was currently making love to him with the rhythmic, sensual stomach movements of an erotic dancer, her arms above her head and magnificent globes swaying enchantingly. Kasumi was holding his head in her lap while massaging his shoulders and whispering words of comfort. Hinako was rubbing her smooth, mature, feminine body against his left side and nursing his face with her generous bodice. Akane handled the right, with light breaths and intimate kisses across his throat, ear, face and mouth. Kodachi and Ukyo were each grasping one of his arms towards their chests, fingers intertwined with his and nibbling one at a time, while locking his eyes with teasing, lust-filled, knowing looks, goading him to desperately buck his hips to gain release. In the background, Kiima and Rouge continued their love play, water splashing across their naked bodies.

Comfort, vulnerability, confidence, need and satisfaction were all constantly replenished, and somehow his endurance was sustained many times longer than he had thought was possible. How long had it been now? Hours? Days? How come nobody had noticed?  
In effect, his repressed tensions, pain, fear, shame, mental shields, and inhibitions were quickly breaking apart, and, without awareness why, tears began to stream down his face. Finally, all that remained was the continuous lovemaking and a dedication to the lovely, alluring women surrounding him. He frenziedly pumped, clutched, and rubbed them against himself until they all seemed to melt together into one primal woman who embodied everything he desired. Then continued to grind against her until his mind went blank.  
"Ranma"  
"Hhhhhh"  
"Who am I?"  
"Nn... Nuh... Nabiki"  
"Do you love me?"  
"Y... yes."  
"Good boy. I love you too. Now rest."  
He slept peacefully against her bosom, without noticing that the bathroom had long since somehow been replaced by an expansive bed.

ooo000ooo

"What is it with me and these weird dreams?" Ranma let his eyes wander. He was surrounded by... well, nothing... literally. He lay on pink silk linens, on a sizeable bed, with white space in all directions. "And where am I anyway?" Someone very soft was cradling his torso and playing with his hair. (Uh-oh)  
"If you don't like the scenery, I could always improve on it." Lush, exotic vegetation and shrill bird-calls instantly replaced the void. Ranma reflexively reached out to touch an overhanging leaf, but his hand passed through, as if a mirage in the desert. "Good morning sleepyhead." Nabiki smiled lovingly. There was something soft in her eyes.  
He shuddered. "Cut that out! It's unnatural to see you make that kind of face."  
She raised an eyebrow. "What kind of face would that be? This one?" Akane kissed him on the cheek. "Or this one?" His red-haired female counterpart beamed at him, then shifted back to normal.  
"How the fuck?!"  
"No idea, don't care, and how not?" She winked at him.  
"You mean we... all of that... I thought it was just..."  
"Nope. We must have covered most of the Kama-Sutra."  
"Oh kami! What have I done? They're going to kill me... How could I lose control? That shouldn't be... You messed with my mind!"  
"Well... yeah. Sorry 'bout that." Her smug expression disclosed that she was anything but.  
"You bitch! You ruthless, twisted, evil..." Ranma was quickly getting more and more worked up.  
Ok, Nabiki had expected that something like this would happen. Now, she could either vainly try to convince him why she believed it to be therapeutic... Oorrrrr she could play along and encourage it, as a cathartic event to get the anger and shame out of his system and convert it into further passion and devotion for herself.

She rested her back between his knees, head on his stomach, yawned and loosely stretched her arms over his neck. A mental hint made sure that he unconsciously began to give her a massage. "I used you again without caring about the damage."  
His hands were currently kneading her shoulders. "Ooh that's so nice." She made biting motions towards his fingers. "Is it my fault that you're so easy to manipulate?" She gave him a condescending smirk and rubbed against his inevitable hard-on. "So easy."  
While Nabiki verbally goaded his already wounded self-esteem, another section of her awareness concurrently unbolted the floodgates keeping his rage under control. And to give him an extra push: "You're just a little puppet running around for my amusement."  
That arrogant, heartless witch! He had saved her life several times. He had it much worse than her to start with but still sacrificed himself... and she always treated him like a worthless... thing to torture and humiliate!  
Nabiki flexed her stomach forward, rose and stretched sinuously, showing off her glorious alabaster form. She faced away from him and preened her behind. "Just stand there impotently. A real man would show me in my place... Oops, I forgot... You're just half a man aren't you? Or half a boy more like it." She chuckled and significantly looked back towards his still inflated crotch.

What an infuriating woman, he wanted to hit her, strangle her, subjugate her... dominate her. Nabiki continued to briskly encourage more darkly emotional responses to raise action from his wounded pride.  
"I'll show you who's a man." He roughly grabbed hold of her midsection and began to slam her from behind.  
"Is that man enough, you bitch?"  
"Ahn. Yes! I'm a horrible girl. Just make love to me!" She moaned and gurgled in pleasure to further egg on his baser instincts. "Ahn! Harder! Aahn. Faster! Oh! Oooh. Aaahnn!"  
He'd prove himself to this uppity female! "I'll give you hard and fast!"  
"Yes! Punish me!" Before her transformation Nabiki's body wouldn't have been able to withstand this level of exertion from the superhuman martial artist. However, in her current fluid state, Ranma would have had trouble causing damage if he tried.  
"No damn it!" He suddenly pushed her away. "I won't let you use me like this again!"  
She replaced the bed with a spacious and shallow pool, nourished by a miniature flowing waterfall. She rested her shoulders against the smooth, curved edge, modified to polished Jacuzzi marble. Her skin glistened with condensed steam. She flexed her stomach, and pressed her backside up and down against the border, eyes ajar and arms bent backward, with longing and bliss radiating from her face. "Play with me Ranma." Her arms wandered as she massaged and stroked her stomach, legs, arms and breasts, her body quivering in fervour. The humid atmosphere, purling liquid and encircling flora all implored to give in to nature, let go of civilisation and embrace the nymph in front of him.  
"It's no use!"  
"Giggle" She held his gaze, eyes sparkling with mischief and lust. The perfected, sensual Akane of his dreams continued uninterrupted, fondling the massive globes and kissing a hardened nipple.  
"Don't use her face!" He barely managed to shut his eyes.  
She grinned in delight. (Nice try.)

"Giggle" (That was Akane's voice!) "Nhnn! Take me. Ah-heh. Take me. Ahn. Nhn. Ooh. Ahnn!"  
An identical series of moans and pants merged with the first. It was swiftly joined by another, touched by a fourth, connected with a fifth and continued to rapidly blend with new additions until he was surrounded by a discordant choir of the yearning gasps of his beloved. Successively replaced by the sounds of forceful caresses, splashing water and passionate kisses. As slick wet female bodies desperately rubbed against one another to gain relief. Their lovemaking encased him with only inches to spare on all sides. He could sense their proximity, smell their perspiration, and touch the air from their movements and breaths. An involuntary spasm would let him feel Akane's velvety skin against his own. Sweat ran down Ranma's brow as he strained to keep still. Unconsciously his eyelids slowly began to open.

The Akane in front of him steadily grew more distinct. A duplicate kneaded her shoulders while she rested against her bosom. Two other copies embraced her from either sides, and they collectively engaged in a three-way kiss. All around them a virtual sea of pairs were passionately intermingling with one another. Seemingly unaware of his attention she naturally began to play with herself. In and out, ever so slowly... tensing in pleasure... flexible back and forth tummy motions... in and out... panting and crouching her back. She caught his gaze, and held it while progressing unabated, as her two companions were straddling her legs.  
Transfixed, he mechanically masturbated in rhythm with her movements.  
Biting her lower lip she leisurely speeded up the pace, tight rapid breaths and lustfully nibbling at her free hand. Unnaturally agile, she languorously stretched one of her legs and began to stroke and lick it, with eager help from her attendants, never missing a beat down below or loosing eye contact, shivering and moaning Ranma's name in complete adulation. She increased his hormone level until the lust couldn't be contained and broke his paralysis.  
His last resistance overcome, Ranma once again mounted her, hammering, kissing and stroking Akane's likeness in abandon, anger and shame, as her replicas enthusiastically ground against him from all directions.

She kept egging him on, with sensual movements and positions of worship mixed with insatiable aggressive lust, as they embraced, gyrated and wrestled through the ocean of soft female bodies. Nerve strokes and pheromone emissions calculated to maximise pleasure. Ever demanding more and more until Ranma, finally, had nothing left to give. Unrelenting she assaulted him with ecstasy from all fronts as virtually every outer area of his body was simultaneously encased in and explored by dozens of devoted Akanes until well after he finally passed out.  
Dominated, but spent of all care, he supported his head in her lap, arms reflexively clutching her waist, and restlessly mumbled her names in his sleep.

ooo000ooo

Coming up:  
Mutual brainwashing may not be the best foundation for a stable relationship.

ooo000ooo


	3. In Soviet Russia, Sociopath lectures YOU

ooo000ooo

"A prince must be prudent enough to know how to escape the bad reputation of those vices that would lose the state for him, and must protect himself from those that will not lose it for him, if this is possible; but if he cannot, he need not concern himself unduly if he ignores these less serious vices."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

"To achieve, you need thought. You have to know what you are doing and that's real power."

- Ayn Rand

"Every woman is a rebel, and usually in wild revolt against herself."

- Oscar Wilde

"From the fact that all ideologies are of equal value, we Fascists conclude that we have the right to create our own ideology and to enforce it with all the energy of which we are capable."

- Benito Mussolini

ooo000ooo

Over a day later, if time was indeed a factor in this place, Ranma once again stood up from the pink-sheeted bed, physically recuperated from the ordeal. He sighed. This was a lot of change to digest and adjust to during such a short amount of time, as if his life wasn't already problematic enough. He stared down at his tormentor / admirer / stalker / lover / enchantress / captor / object of desire / beloved / girlfriend. She was wrapped in linens and holding her legs, expectantly observing him as if she depended on what he would say. Oddly enough she seemed almost as bewildered as he felt. "Do you have to wear her face all the time?"

She blinked. "I don't know. Don't you like it better?"

"I'm not sure. I think you've "out-Akane'd" Akane, Ucchan, Shampoo... all of them, even Kasumi. I'm not sure what I like."

Her darling was so handsome. (Oh right, become a domesticated, simpering milksop! You go girl!) "I redirected your feelings for them to me through the imprinting overload? Yeah that was part of the idea."

"You're not really them, but when I try to think of Akane I think of you. You seem much more like her than she does, and I want you and need you, but don't trust you at all and should hate you for doing this. That's the best way I can say it. Turn back and I'll check if I want to beat you up or not."

(He's still distressed. Blast it!) She did as instructed, but maintained her improved exterior, and tried to assume a gentle allure. "For what it's worth, I had this thrown on me even more suddenly. I was sitting in my room minding my own business, when I suddenly gained these abilities, felt a big pang of conscience and a deep affection for you."

He gazed into half-lidded, tender, hungry eyes, hidden beneath thick eyelashes. Radiating absolute acceptance and faith. He was drowning. Curse the witch for being so lovely! She had him in a leash and knew it. "Uh-huh, yeah, great. I believe you! What's the real story? Did someone die and give me the money?"

Nabiki faltered, but tried to regain her composure. "Hey, lack of plausibility notwithstanding, I was telling the truth... well, almost."

She looked sad. He wanted to comfort her small sleek frame against his own until everything was all right. (No! Don't let her trick you!) "Yeah, I bet. You just had this sudden urge to force me to adore you, dump Akane and screw up our lives, and got all the right tools for it at the same time. Oh, and you're not the evil psycho who sold me as a prostitute to pay a gambling debt, framed me for rape for fun, got mom's house destroyed, screwed up my wedding by sending notices to every lunatic I know, tried to marry me off to Kodachi for 6350 Yen, permanently sicked Kuno on me by making him think I had enslaved "his pigtailed girl", and sells my nudie prints all over the world without even giving me any money, even though I've saved your life at least twice! Because you turned over a new leaf all of 15 minutes ago!"

She recoiled as if stung. (That hurt! This random sentimentality is destroying me!) "Ok, honestly then. Remember my brief trip abroad? I ordered some very special Jusenkyo water, but it blew up in my face and didn't quite work as planned. I think the guide may have purposely contaminated it."

Could anyone so delicate be genuinely bad? "Yeah, you're just making new friends everywhere. So what now?"

(I rub and soothe you, until you trust me! ...Oh gag!) "First I'm going to get us back home so we can eat some breakfast. Then we're switching the engagement back to me, and after that we'll see what happens. Sounds good?"

"No."

She sighed. (That's us... the not so happy couple.) "I was afraid so. Back to the drawing board."

ooo000ooo

Time had gone by at a slower rate than Nabiki expected while inside her displacement zone. She had predicted that the days spent there would equal around 14 hours outside, but she evidently still needed training as only half as many had passed. The clock showed 12 p.m., more than late enough for everyone to be soundly asleep in the early bird Tendo household.

There was a note from Kasumi on the kitchen table. It mentioned that she couldn't find either of them anywhere in the residence and nobody knew where they could be, but she had readied two bento boxes from the dinner in case they came back, despite Mister Saotome's protests.

They both ate in uncomfortable silence, neither entirely sure how to reacclimatize to everyday life, or being particularly tired after so many hours of sleep.

"Do you want to take a walk?" Nabiki realised that she had been the one who had spoken.

"Where to?"

"I don't know. Nowhere, anywhere, see where we end up. Does it matter?"

"I guess not." He abruptly stood up. "All right, whatever you say."

They went out the kitchen entrance. A luminescent arc was reflected in the pond. In the silent darkness and dim pale light the classic garden turned vaguely bewitching.

"Shall we?" She offered him her arms.

"Sure." He put an arm each under her knees and shoulders and heaved her up with all the effort it would take a normal man to lift a feather. He took a giant leap across the plot and another on top of the surrounding fortification, then proceeded to swiftly traverse the spans separating the suburb rooftops, smoothly touching down without discernible sounds or shocks of impact, leaving any tiles in the same condition that he found them.

Nabiki had sometimes wondered how this could be possible; the honed, shock-absorbing movements of a cat, emulated and refined through intense training, and instinctively gauged for exacting force and direction? No, more likely a combination of the above and another of those 'chi-things' that made no sense, but she nonetheless appreciated, since they made the world a more interesting place, and had given her the embodied might of Jusenkyo at her fingertips.

They landed by a low fence overlooking a small canal. Nabiki recognised this route. She had passed it some times when bruised up as a child, to visit Doctor Tofu, the family's chiropractor, acupuncturist, and expert in herbal medicine. When possible her father had preferred traditional methods to modern physicians. In lack of anything better to do, she looked down into the water and waited. He obviously wanted to get something out of his system.

To the left of her, Ranma was perched on top of the railing. "Akane pushed me down from here you know..." He grew silent again.

Nabiki saw fit to let him continue interrupted.

"I told her that I liked her shorter hair better, but she thought I was just trying to cheer her up..."

More silence.

"She couldn't believe anyone would think she was cute, but was really happy that I tried..."

"So why did she put you in the water?"

"Everything turned too serious, too fast, and I was ashamed about getting it cut during the fight."

"So?"

"She loosened up the moment and said that it made us even... It worked too. We never brought it up again."

"Until now?"

"Yeah."

Nabiki considered this, and casually gave him a shove.

"Whoah!" (...Wait a minute... I'm not wet?) He looked down and found himself nestled on a large shovel, protruding from Nabiki's right arm.

She batted an eyelid. "Fake out." And put him down where he left. "Lightened up enough?"

"...A bit."

(Ok, time to spin this along another track.) "I get what you're trying to say though... You don't want to make any plans, take your time to see what this means and then go from there, just like with Akane, right?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Well, you don't have the luxury anymore. We're already way past any bases that you have covered earlier, I've spoiled you for other women, and if I'm completely dedicated to you I expect the same in return."

"You don't understand. She risked her life for me lots of times. She's even traded it off. She always worried for me, and helped me out when I really needed it. I can't just throw her away like trash!"

"So stringing her along is fairer?"

"No... but maybe I can get past this and start again, if we don't tell anyone?"

(Uh-oh! Think fast!) "It wouldn't work. As you said earlier, when you try to think of her you think of me. You don't really feel anything for her anymore. You just remember the sensation and want that back. You'd expect things from her that she could never satisfy. She might get embarrassed and whack you if you even tried an innocent kiss."

"...I don't think that's true. She's a sweet girl towards almost everyone. I'm just such a bigmouth that I always hurt her..."

"So she clobbers you?"

"Only sometimes when I'm being a real jerk, and only because she knows I can take much worse. She hardly hits anyone except Kuno and me. Being punted doesn't hurt me. She hates bullies and always tries to help people who can't defend themselves."

"Like those attackers every morning?"

"That was self-defence and long ago, and all of them got up healthy to do it over the next day. Besides, even Ucchan regularly beats me up for just embarrassing her. She's even thrown bombs or those weird spatula shuriken at me, and she's the nicest of the rest by far. Akane is just around me a lot more."

"Yeah, ok, so she usually doesn't actually hurt you, but you're still keeping each other way too high-strung, what about that battle-dougi? You were so fixated on beating her that you were willing to throw away your relationship, and when she found out she turned so mad that she stomped you into the ground and strongly considered not giving you another chance, without listening to explanations."

"She was really happy when I told her that I... liked her. She didn't mind not being strong anymore, and felt really betrayed when she thought I played around with her. I had to prove myself to fix it."

"Like you want to play around with her now?" (This is almost too easy.)

"...No."

"You still don't get it. Akane is great towards everyone except people who assault her, you and Kuno-chan. What does being compared to them tell you!? You're usually too foot-in-mouth to clear anything up the easy way."

"When it counts we can rely on each other 100 percent!"

"Yeah, but that's not enough, or you'd be married to Ryoga. You have to be comfortable too."

"Like I'm so comfortable with you? Besides, what gives you the right to judge that I wasn't?"

"Well, you're not a masochist and you were turning more edgy with time, not less."

"That's not true... the last part."

(Gotcha!) "In any case, it doesn't matter what might have been, just what is. Sometimes life just happens to us and we have to deal with it."

"You happened to me!"

"Through no design of my own. How about this; we keep quiet for awhile, you check if you can still continue as it was, while we go out on some dates and get to know each other to compare?" (...Wherein I continue to serial-seduce and gradually domesticate you.) "I'll even sign a basic Non Disclosure Agreement to never reveal anything on my own without your consent. That's like swearing on your mother's life for me." (Your mother's life that is... though I?m a tad attached to her, even if she is a fruitcake)

"That sounds... fair."

(Yes! Eat my dust baby sis! ...I really shouldn't try to force him like this. Shut up! ...That's no way to treat someone I claim to care about. Shut up! ...I should let him decide for himself. Shut. The. Fuck. Up! ...Great, now I'm either sounding like a martyr or a spastic retard.) She steadied her features. "So, while we're here, and since everyone's asleep, do you want to take a swim?"

(Did her face tremble for a moment?) "I would change you know."

"I could probably create a water-proof membrane..."

"No! No, I don't want to wear you too."

"Who says you're not?" Her straight-faced expression seemed utterly sincere. Ranma froze up. "...Just kidding! Kidding! Don't worry! ...Seriously, I don't mind. I've never liked girls as such, but I accept you as you are. " (Funny, I actually meant that.)

He didn't reply, but nodded towards her and dove in.

Nabiki auto-switched to a modest swimsuit and immediately followed.

As she didn't surface immediately, Ranma-chan submerged to check for any signs of movements. (It's too dark, training or not... huh!) A mirror of her face grinned just inches away. She was pointing down at something. "Whoulp!" Ranma inadvertently gulped, as a dolphin rose from the depth, lifting her on its back. Two others quickly emerged, a mermaid version of herself and Nabiki respectively balancing atop each of them.

"Does the carriage satisfy your lordship?" Nabiki teased.

The red-haired semi-copy nudged Ranma with one of her elbows, while keeping steady with the other. "Race you?"

Ranma blew her mouthful of water into the replica's face. "Nah, you've stacked all the ballots."

"Hah! True! There's hope for you yet." She and the dolphins briefly turned identical to the original, winked, rippled, and then disappeared.

The remaining Nabiki swam over. "This isn't as easy as it looks." She raised an eyebrow and the fishtail disappeared. "Let me try something." She held one of Ranma's hands in her own and tried to concentrate. It suddenly felt much larger. "I thought so." She gave him a kiss on the mouth. "I may accept you as you are, but I still prefer you for who you really are." (Gotcha again!)

Ranma looked nonplussed. "How did you do that?"

"I figured that since my curse magic is so much stronger, under my control, and involves healing and restoration, I might be able to override yours."

"You mean that I'm cured?"

"No, just when I touch you." She let go of his... now her, hand. "See?" Then grasped it again and switched him back.

"That's still... great... really."

"Anything for you dearest." (I could likely make it permanent if I really tried, but where's the fun in that? Never provide a cure when you can supply a prescription! This way you'll have to depend on me. There's no way I'm letting you go back to that brat! Never! ...No, I really should try to help him honestly. He will appreciate the gesture for what it is... Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I'm not some fucking bleeding heart apostle for the creed of professional whining! Nice girls finish last, and never forget it!) She closed her eyes, focused and enforced a smooth, bland smile.

"Huh? You frowned again."

"Nothing to worry about darling, just a persistent itch. Perhaps it's time to go dry off again?"

ooo000ooo

They once more leaned against the railing facing the waterway. Ranma was still drenched, but Nabiki had wisely avoided offering any dry clothes.

Ranma was attempting to stutter out some words of appreciation. "...That was really... decent... back there... maybe you're not such a chilling horror anymore... seriously... thanks." Though he obviously still wasn't very used to or comfortable with the concept of not doing so backhandedly.

She ignored the slip-up and grabbed his arm. "See? You'll have to learn to trust me more. I really want what's best for you."

"And at least you can pose for your own prints now, right?"

(Though I'll have to do something about your appallingly deficient small-scale thinking.) "Whatever you say dear. Is there anything else I can help you with, like getting rid of that Amazon village for sending terrorists to Japanese soil or neutering mister bacon as a first warning?" (What the hell was that!? Tendo Nabiki does not blurt out any stray notions, unless they yield profitable influence.)

Ranma looked horrified. "You're kidding right? They're not terrorists, and why would I want to wipe out hundreds of bystanders? Ryoga has helped me out big or saved mine or Akane's lives quite a few times and usually isn't such a bad guy, besides, he's got it bad enough as it is."

"Repeated murder attempts on native citizens by a sect of secluded zealots. It smells terrorist to me." (And there I went with the exposure again. Get a hold of yourself! This isn?t some "let's open up" TV couch.)

"No just crooks, and it's a private thing. I didn't check that they had a bunch of loony laws to trap husbands and keep a reputation. Shampoo has a major cruel streak, but she was punished with a curse when she wouldn't carry through."

"And if she killed Akane?" (Ok, the "protect your family" angle might work.)

"I'd dump her off in jail."

"And if Cologne got involved?" (Kami forbid. That hag actually worries me.)

"She's the one keeping Shampoo in check, not the other way around. She didn't really care if I married Akane, and I think she likes it better here, so she's not much of a stickler for tradition anymore, but ok, I'd give Happosai some photos or something to help me out."

"And if Ryoga is so honourable why is the piggy sleeping with Akane?" (The "everyone is out to get me" track has some potential.)

"He keeps her safe and happy, even though she's so edgy that she beats him up in her sleep every night. He even fought Happosai as a piglet to protect her."

"Uh-huh, no lecherous reasons at all. Riiiiiiight." (Emotional is good. Keep it simple.)

"Are we talking about the same guy? He's the most easily embarrassed fellow I've ever met. He's so lonely that a smile will make him cover Akane with presents. A hug makes him pass out. Peeping on her was the most horrible thing he could come up with when an oni possessed him, and he was really ashamed afterwards. He wouldn?t even enter the girls? locker room for a Jusenkyo cure."

"He's a pathetic, moronic, self-pitying, indulgent little crybaby whiner, who challenged you to a duel for some bread crumbs, got himself cursed, and blamed you for his own mistakes. Sob story alert! Boohoo, I have cancer!" (Gah! Ranma + disparaging stream-of-consciousness equals bad. Ranma + carefree diversions + ego-stroking + corny pity-points equals good. How hard can that be to get?)

"He's always lost in the wild without any comforts at all, and whenever it rains he turns into a snack for any hunter or animal that sees him. My problems are nothing compared to that, and he's way tougher about it than you would be. He couldn't even find his way home from school without help. I took away his one steady meal, even though I knew that. I would have thrown a challenge too after a while. He wandered for days to get there, and I still let Genma drag me away. So he had to track me down, but didn't know about the springs, and I didn't look where I was going, and pretty much destroyed his life. I?d say he had really major reasons for a grudge, and he still only beat me up all those times he won. Big deal if he turns completely loyal by some hugs from Akane. I had messed things up enough already. He?s only a little brother to her, and he's got a girlfriend of his own now. Besides, I owe him big, he's saved me more times, and I only really returned the favour once that I recall." Ranma exhaled, slightly out of breath.

(Whoa... someone has a serious guilt-trip.) She gave him a reassuring hug. (Don't "be yourself"-Don't "be yourself"-Don't "be yourself"-) "I'm sorry about that dear, but I had to provoke you to check where you stood. Never mind Ryoga. I also think he's harmless, and of course I'd never want to hurt any innocent people, but the Amazons are all dangerous. Couldn't I try to deport them, and send the Kunos to an asylum or something?" (If I gave Kuno-chan one of my copies as a trophy, she could instigate a family feud. Eeeew! Never mind. I'm not that desperate, at least not yet.)

He was still a bit wound up, but almost recuperated. "Nah, I think Cologne has her passport papers in order for her business, and the Kunos are rich enough to behave really loony. I don't think this is as bad as you make it. If I married Akane I'd have to hold off Shampoo, Kodachi and Kuno until they gave up and moved on, but that's it, and I could beat all of them together with my arms tied. Ucchan would become really sad and probably stop being my friend, but that's it. She's really tough. I'd feel bad about it, because I think she might care more than Akane, but she'd move on and could get any guy she wants if she really needs to. Akane and me were learning to get along. We'd have smoothed out sometime. All of this is just a stupid snag! Yeah, I was a bit fed up, but there are no damn quick-fixes to make everything hunky-dory!"

Urd sneezed. "Whoops, another dissatisfied client... Ingrates all of them."

Nabiki was rather taken aback by all this passionate venting against her person by someone she was feeling painfully dependent on. She touched his face. (I have to turn this around. I'll have to offer him a full cure after all.) "Ranma... sweetie... listen to me... I can help you. I really can... I'd do anything for you." (Shampoo's formula could manage these setbacks-Mousse might help out if it leaves his sweetie dangling-The crone would find out-Trick him with a facsimile when the others are away-Eliminate the recollection in an unguarded moment-)

"Didn't you just say that loyalty is not enough?"

(Shit! Ok. Soothing pheromones. Try to bolster signs of affection and trust.) "No, really, listen... I think I can..." (Get your head on straight-Get your head on straight-Get your head on straight-)

"Hand it over!" It was an unsteady, nervous voice tinged with intense need.

Ranma turned around. It was just three street punks. Torn clothes, unwashed bodies, coloured hair, some tattoos. Reddened eyes and uneasy, out of shape breaths. He didn't know if he should laugh about their choice of such a powerful and penniless 'victim', or feel compassion towards their dismal conditions.

One of them shakily brandished a firearm in his direction, while the other two wielded a blade in each hand. Stick-up authorities they weren't, but it wasn't so easy to gain access to handguns in Japan, so they must have had some contacts... their dealer perhaps?

Ranma was capable of snatching machinegun shells out of the air, so he wasn't particularly worried. The only problem would be to sufficiently restrain the force of his blows. Some crude paralysing shiatsu spot might work. They were useless on trained or moving opponents, but these were acting in slow motion to his perceptions.

"Just hand it over and nobody will get hurt!" The rifle holder pleaded.

(All right. Here I go... Huh?) Nabiki surprised him by beginning to advance while speaking in a tense, measured voice, putting stress on every word.

(Damn these creatures for disturbing my moment! They've destroyed everything!) "Listen well, you substandard brain donators." Her appearance darkened, swelled and grew scales. She took a step forward

"...You've made a deadly grave mistake." Her hands sprouted black claws and her pupils narrowed into slits, holding promises of pain and death. She took a second step.

"...And I'm about to teach you a lasting lesson not to pester your betters." Her mouth grew into a large snout, while flames flickered from her nostrils. A third step.

"...Which you will remember for the rest of your fleeting, soon to be crippled lives." She opened her massive jaws, inches from their alarmed faces, sprouting dozens of shiny red teeth.

"No!" *Blam!*

(Blast it!) Ranma berated himself. Nabiki had stepped right in front of the terrified addict, leaving himself no chance to catch the bullet. Within a second he had applied his original strategy, though it barely seemed necessary. The muggers already stood petrified out of fear, but at least this would keep them that way for another 10 minutes or so, with their minds asleep in the meantime. He anxiously looked towards Nabiki... it... whatever she was supposed to have been.

Nabiki likewise remained in the same stance, but had reverted to her usual state. (...I'm alive... but I'm sure that the bullet hit me... straight between the eyes... I sensed how it passed through... Do I have brain damage?! Am I dying or paralysed?!)

Ranma forcefully hugged and shook her limp body. "Snap out of it! Listen to me! You're ok! There's no hole in your head! It closed up on its own!"

"...Very well." She stood up.

"What the hell were you thinking!? I could have put them out of action no problem. You could have stretched your shoe into a rope and let it wrap them up before they noticed or something. What's the big idea in freaking them out with the fucking pointless drama queen act?!"

She tuned him out. (The filthy, worthless, gutter-scum animals! They'd presume to threaten and shoot at me?! Me?! I'll show them who they're dealing with! Crippling them is not enough! I'll cut their eyes, ears and tongues out. Skin them alive and let them vainly fail to scream, cry and beg me for release of death.)

She turned around and spit in each of their faces, putting as much vehemence in the act as she could muster. "You tried to take my money and then kill me filth." (No. What I originally had in mind will have to suffice. I can blame that on self-defence, and who would believe them anyway?) Nabiki's eyes literally blazed with kitsune fire as her fingers lengthened into very long and extremely sharp steel razors.

"You will never stain my neighbourhood again!" She took a swipe towards the gunman's still outstretched arms. "See this as a memento to remember me by, filth!"

She tumbled to the ground. (Ranma pushed me away!)

He held her down. "Stop, damn it! What's the matter with you? You can't just cut the arms off people who can't defend themselves! They're not even awake!"

She blinked. (Not awake?) She briefly felt the unusual bothersome twinge of remorse, but the joint frustration, fear and battle fever enabled her to force it down. "And why not? They're vermin. It's not like the police will believe their words over ours. Especially if they're too scared to witness."

"Oh yeah, that's what I'm all about! Blood, humiliation, bullying, and cries of pain when I have someone completely outmatched, just because I can!" He was trembling with fury. "I'm not some judge of life and death! If someone is in trouble I'll try to help, but I won't go for the throat if I can handle it in any other way! Especially not to helpless street punks!"

He exhaled. "I'll just leave them off for rehab at the precinct."

The unaccustomed connection to the youth beside her, haphazard disposition, and the cumulative effects of a very bewildering day, had finally gnawed their way past most patience and affectations of the usually unflappable Tendo sister. (Why am I so fixated on this naive dullard? People who don't want to exterminate their enemies are far worse than those who do! They have no excuse! A predator is just admitting his nature, while they're hypocrites who make a deliberate choice to submerge it, proud in their resolution to remain irresolute!)

Nabiki took on a slow, patronising tone, as if instructing a baby. "How do you suppose a society is built dear?"

"Teamwork, learning, ideas, growth, and some justice, happiness and safety for yourself and anyone else you care about?"

(Someone is paying more attention than he lets on. Crude, but clever, I sometimes forget that.) "No those are more products within the framework. A society is established by the drive of people who can focus strategic savagery, greed, ambition and oceans of blood to breed fear of death and respect in subjects and enemies alike. These are the driving forces of all nature and what works to forge warring factions into an empire!"

"I don't buy it. The few bastards who do that all need the inventors and managers who keep it all running. Wanting to leave everything a little better than yesterday is what makes things go around. The guys you mentioned are just mosquitoes sucking blood, and if they're taken away there's nothing to keep people together afterwards, just a lot of fear and hate waiting to explode. Besides, we've come far enough to grow above that."

"No sweetheart. Your innocence is charming, but the designation and scale are both erroneous, unless you suggest mosquitoes the size of skyscrapers. They're virtuosi of symphonies everyone else adjusts to, because they're working with the natural system not against it. If you're good enough, the masses will be enchanted into loyalty through visions of grandeur, ignore that they are afraid, be spoon-fed or goaded into deducing the truths you need them to see, and eventually independently invent personal rationales for their confederation. If you can simultaneously mobilise all suppressed dissatisfaction into hatred of genuine or imaginary external threats to expand your reach this creates unity on levels your lofty notions never could. The few who are honoured by and awe others for thousands of years in the history books are the empire-builders, those who slaughter so many people that it turns unfathomable, statistical, irrelevant and praiseworthy, not the creators of fireworks or the aqueduct."

"Oh yeah, we sure know how to pick our heroes. Butchers who see it as Shogi and music."

"There's no "we" about it dear. Empire builders are in position to make sure that people remember them instead of wasting their talents for martyrdom."

"And this has what to do with you trying to cut off the hands of helpless punks, so they'll bleed to death or be crippled for life?"

"That nature itself declares that you should always bargain from a position of power. Morality is a redundant concept. So-called cruelty, rape, torture, persecution and abuse for fun and profit are our given dictates and unpretentious thriving condition. The only true sin is to lose confidence, become overwhelmed, and turn into a wretched, repugnant victim, who should feel even more ashamed for the woeful lack of personal pride, and hopefully go off to die in a ditch somewhere out of sight. The inevitable just punishments are prolonged suffering and fatality... and imagine the nightmare if this was not the case! Retarded, handicapped, chronically depressed or the otherwise mentally ill would breed society into an idiocratic backwater. A great, heroic human being or prominent leader is genuine and basks in her charge and influence over the lamentations and torment of anyone she damn well deems blameworthy or plain doesn't like. Never doubt, second-guess yourself, and let your flame burn out, or feel less than glorious. Leave that for your quarry. If someone threatens you, don't turn the other cheek and bottle up your rage to eat you from within. Find creative ways to hit him or her back at least 10 times as hard in the most sensitive spots, to make sure you keep your dignity and that people fall to their knees in shivering terror merely from the prospect of making you displeased. These are mere gutter rats. If you can't make inferior trash like them respect you, how do you suppose anyone else will?"

"Yeah, that sounds like the way a monster would think all right. It's all just about trying to be even worse than anyone else to get a free lead, making the world a worse place by being in it, and enjoying to hurt and scare others, especially those who are already hurt and scared, since that makes it easier. Never mind that they might be nicer than you in other ways, or not understand what they're doing. Oh, and take care to kick the ones lowest down the food chain, who are doing it because they're desperate, extra hard, because it's a pride thing and the rabble must know their place! ...I thought this change of heart was too good to be true."

(You smug, self-righteous, whiny, deluded, repressed, pathetic, egalitarian, loser phoney...) Nabiki felt a tight lump of fear in her throat, mixed with an underlined tinge of queasy revulsion. (What am I doing? He'll reject me! This is just the old me spewing her usual hateful filth! That rant could just as easily been titled "Principled, honourable, compassionate and concerned, visionary, ethical, tolerant, altruistic idealist, who strives to be good but can't manage in all areas, especially those he hasn't considered." Is it necessary to twist and pervert all of this into terms of derision, rather than truly grasp and appreciate mankind's better virtues? ...I'll have to tone this down.)

"Look darling, I don't enjoy that the world works this way, but it does, so I have to adapt or they'll send some friends to kill me because they think that I'm soft. You've tracked down prey since you were less than 6 years old. You should understand that if you kill enough wolves the rest of the flock learns to stay away."

"I hunted because sometimes it was the only way to get food or something to trade with, and because they were mostly stupid beasts who saw me as lunch. Not for sport or because it was fun to hurt and to enjoy the win with every bite of my steak. Killing instead of being clever is just lazy, and won't give them a chance to get better. Besides, I think these bozos are plenty scared as it is, not exactly a threat."

(You keep on telling yourself that for your beauty sleep. Higher animals are basically just incredibly stupid humans who run around driven purely by instinct. How do you figure the meat in your pork buns is produced? Three words: Pig conveyor belts! A never-ending thousand concentration camps for billions of retarded people who are kept in narrow cages until they're butchered... and you know what? Without the manufacturing process they wouldn't even exist! Tough luck, but that's the way the system works! No sappy fairy-tale solutions, just a lot of blood, fear, greed, death, manipulation and some whiny, guilt-tripping, sanctimonious douchebag self-delusion that turns you into easy prey... Blast it! Now I'm making myself feel really sick again... I'm not a monster! I'm not a monster! I'm not a monster!)

"Yes honey, I suppose that you're right, and that these guys may be pretty harmless, but what if the yakuza who gives them their fix and weapons sends someone to make a point by, say... raping and torturing your mother to death."

"If they try I'll defend her as many times it takes, but from what I've heard, if the Yakuza, or Triads, or Mafia, or whatever see you as a threat they will never ever stop, until you've killed or locked up all of them all. Scaring the higher-ups doesn't work. It only makes them try harder to defend their names. So, if the sleeping beauties there somehow have anyone to squeal to about that alien abduction show-off, you'll get less reaction by just knocking them out."

"Alien abduction?"

He shrugged. "It sort of fits."

A droll whim made her grin in delight. (All right... if he wants ingenious solutions, I'll give them to him...) "So how long until they come to again?"

"A minute or two. Give or take."

"Ok, just watch and play along with me then. You should appreciate this."

ooo000ooo

Nabiki waited for a moment until the light of consciousness, such as it was, returned and they fell down as victims to the aching, quivering immobility of sleeping limbs. The bewildered trio made amusing attempts to circle their limp arms and legs back and forth to restore the blood circulation. (Did I really feel the need to maintain my dignity by taking a pound of flesh out of these stooges?)

As three pairs of gazes caught her own their expressions made her think of rabbits in awe of a hunting falcon. It figured. Their last recollection had been of an apparent attempt to literally bite their heads off.

Her skin took on a silver, shiny characteristic as she spoke in a hollow, mechanical voice. "Stealth configuration exposed! Sanitation of environment required! Shifting to default pattern!"

Metallic liquid swelled and contorted, as it took a spherical, bulky shape with no head, bandwagon piling, upper limbs traded for 8 swirling, scalpel and band-saw tipped, tentacles, enormous saw teeth in place of a stomach, and featureless, glowing, blood red eyes placed above.

"Designate nomenclature native tongue: Gorebot 2309! Function: Dismember and digest samples from local animal kingdom! Catalogue and transmit results to culture 880815-0642! Hostile life forms detected! Heretofore unsampled species! Request recovery instruction from unit handler?" She/it looked expectantly in Ranma's direction.

He managed to stifle a nervous chuckle as a cough. "It's all right. Just tell them to check into rehab right now and never do this again."

"Unit handler requests extended detoxification, and indefinite lack of hostility as terms for release! Failure to comply with stated regulations will result in dismemberment and digestion! Disclosure of otherworldly involvement to local civilisation punishable to ultimate extent! Are terms acceptable?"

The terrified robbers mutely nodded.

"Regulation compliance affirmative! Progress for imminent treatment of asocial disorder! Final warning! Keep quiet and follow law or be exterminated!"

Ranma shook his head in mixed amusement and astonishment, hoisted them over his shoulders, gave her a nod, and bounced towards the precinct's police station to inform about three new, very treatment-enthusiastic, soon to be model citizens.

Nabiki on her part was rolling on the ground, alternately hammering her fists against it and clutching herself in spastic laughter. "Snort!" She wiped the tears out of her eyes. (Oh, I give up. Mood-swings or not, that was hysterical! Whatever was I thinking? Clever bullying is so much more satisfying, and you can torment people forever instead of just disposing of them immediately! Killing is for expediency, while torture and manipulation is for pleasure. I know that already. It's practically my personal mantra. Loosing my head is so not I. Physical power easily makes you rely on it. I'll have to keep tabs on that... No, I... Shut up!)

Ranma touched down on the ground in front of her. He looked positively exuberant. "That was kind of cool, still a bit mean, but really cool! It's just what I'm talking about. Having fun, doing amazing stuff, and helping when you can. That's what's important. There's no need for all the gloom and doom. You get it after all!"

(Well, that's not quite what I was going for... though most people tend to overlook what you do, if you're inspired, witty, entertaining and striking enough while doing it. Hurt someone with flair and a joke and the spectators will applaud you. Luckily I'm sane enough to use that... Oh well... it was enjoyable, and if that's what it takes...) "Yes honey. You're right of course. I planned to do that from the beginning, but they took me by surprise when I tried to comfort you, so I made a mistake... and then I was frightened and got carried away! I thought that I was going to die!" She crouched her head and feigned a regretful, vulnerable and endearing expression, and a tear went down her cheek, while she mentally reinforced his conditioned reflex.

Ranma felt bad. He couldn't handle making a girl cry. (I shouldn't have yelled at her! What's wrong with me? She was just wound up! She didn't really mean any of that stuff! She's just a girl!) He nervously gestured to make her calm down. "No, no, it's ok, it's ok! ...You did all right! ...That was lots of fun!"

She hesitantly raised her face. "Really? You liked that?"

He tried to look reliable. "Yeah! ...You were great! ...We can do some more cool stuff in the future!"

She eagerly looked into his eyes. "Promise?"

"...Sure! We can go out and see what happens... You can surprise me again if you want."

"I'm so glad!" She blissfully embraced his neck and let him tentatively attempt to console her.

Ranma held her waist in his arm as they strolled back towards the house, basking in the silent city and the unclouded moonlight. He looked down with a wary mixture of fondness and misgivings. "880815-0642?"

"My social security number."

"Good one... You know... maybe this could work out after all."

Nabiki somehow felt warm and sheltered upon hearing the tentative words of acceptance. While not a familiar notion, she allowed herself to admit that it wasn't entirely uncomfortable. Not comparable to the utter bliss of absolute sovereignty, control, affluence and power, but still... quaint. (Yes, this might become a profitable investment after all. I'll just have to take care that darling doesn't grow too cross or bored with me. Playing together this way seems like the best way to bond. It's thrilling... like we're two halves of a team... Perhaps I was unwise to let go of my interest in such matters?) "Just give me a chance love, that's all I ask for."

"It's just... Don't take this the wrong way! ...That'd be way down the road... but... if you don't have inside organs... doesn't that mean you can't have any children?"

"..." (Or perhaps not.)

ooo000ooo

Coming up:

Backtracking time, as other cast members have been busy on their own, and the pacing moves for the highest gear, while keeping an eye out for sudden turns, or swarms of wild ideas.

ooo000ooo


	4. The Neutral, the Bad, and the Badasses

ooo000ooo

"Throughout the centuries there were men who took first steps, down new roads, armed with nothing but their own vision."

- Ayn Rand

"A wise man will see to it that his acts always seem voluntary and not done by compulsion, however much he may be compelled by necessity."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

"Better to live a day as a lion, than a hundred years as a sheep."

- Benito Mussolini

"I teach you the Superman. Man is something that should be overcome."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

ooo000ooo

6 months ago:

Hibiki Ryoga wandered again, then he wandered some more, and continued to wander until he was sick and tired of it, sat down by a nearby stream, and made a campfire to cook some food. He checked within his backpack. Just his luck, only canned beans left again. There was a book crammed beside it. He took it out. It had brief descriptions of history, traditions and sights within different countries, and useful phrases to ask questions with. It was a present from Akari. He was lonely. He wanted to find her... or Akane. Then everything would be all right. He shook his head. No not Akane, never again... well, maybe... in case she invited him, or came to visit, or... No, no, show some spine. He had made a decision before that botched wedding. He had to stick to it for more than a few days at a time. Although it had been a few weeks now, that was an improvement. He collected water in his kettle to make some tea. There weren't any wild boars or bears around, and Akari would have disapproved. Perhaps he could find some mushrooms or berries to make the meal palatable?

He sensed something! The hunter immediately stood up, and looked around for several moments. He checked behind some bushes, then under his backpack. He rubbed his head. How strange, he prided himself on having an incredibly sharp dairokkan, or aura sense. Well no matter, the beans were ready. He took a spoonful, and instantly spit them out. Eeew! They were out of date.

"Hmph! How undignified."  
Ryoga looked around again. Where did the voice come from?  
"I'm right above, you blithering idiot!"  
Ryoga looked up. His Imperial Majesty, The Throne Prince Hao Long Bu of the Musk Dynasty was standing with crossed arms on a thin branch of a tree, seemingly far too frail to support his weight.  
"You! What do you want?" Ryoga was confused, but it was quickly supplanted by rage. This bastard had tried to hurt Akane. "Do you want a fight?"  
"How quaint. The swine would think to challenge a dragon." Hao Bu snapped his fingers. "Li Me!"  
Ryoga instinctively leapt to the side, barely managing to avoid a two handed sneak-attack from behind, crushing the earth within a 4-metre radius.  
Ryoga was shocked. "You destroyed Akari's present! Shishi Hokodan!" He blasted Lime with a 6-metres wide powerful torrent of force, blowing the latter through a few dozen perfectly good trees.  
Hao Bu smiled, eyes dilated in intense captivated glee "Magnificent!"  
Ryoga didn't let up, nearly immediately reached Lime as he fell, and relentlessly started to pound away with his ever-present unnaturally dense combat-umbrella before the latter had a chance to recover, rendering the herculean opponent severely bruised and insensate, and the chi-enforced bamboo broken in half from a few hundred impacts. "You bastard! You bastard! You bastard!" Ryoga panted heavily, but managed to stop himself before causing serious damage, and threw aside the remaining splinters. He wiped a tear from his eye. He had betrayed Akari! She would never forgive him! "Heeeerb!" He ran at full speed towards his nemesis.  
Hao Bu descended to the ground 20 metres in front of Ryoga. Sneering disdainfully. "Can't you do anything right? You were running the wrong way." His teeth flashed in ferocious anticipation.  
Ryoga ignored him and unleashed a torrent of chi-reinforced razor-bandannas, each capable of easily cutting through a few feet of solid steel.  
"You are about to learn not to bother your betters with children's tricks." Hao Bu made a sweep with his right arm. "Hito Ryuu-zan Ha!" Several shimmering blades of pure chi, each capable of slicing past several metres of solid steel, blasted straight through the barrage.  
Ryoga managed to evade most of them as he advanced, but was struck dead centre by the others. That hurt! He looked down. It had drawn blood, but mostly surface-level. Anyone else would have been slaughtered. "Bakusai Tenketsu!" He struck the ground with both index fingers, unleashing a bombardment of small rocks towards the infuriatingly conceited dragon-prince, and screening him long enough to approach further.  
Hao Bu caught and threw hundreds of pebbles to the side at a pace far too swift for a normal eye to follow. His smirk widened. "Better." A foot abruptly came into sight through the makeshift smokescreen, a few inches from his eyes, granting him enough time to receive a solid hit to the jaw and topple to the ground. Hao Bu instantly rolled to the side of a second blow, and somersaulted a few metres backwards to regain initiative.  
Both fighters simultaneously unleashed more conventional chi-blasts. Ryoga's stronger discharge was nevertheless drilled through by Hao Bu's far more focused strike. While the latter was once more struck down, the former took comparable damage, as the torrent of pressure relentlessly battered at his abdomen.  
Hao Bu wiped some blood from his face, tasting it, still smiling as if invigorated. "Very good insect, very good." He stood up. "There was a time when you would be beheaded for lese-majesty, but I have some use for you."  
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You hurt Akane! You hurt Akari!" Ryoga descended upon him, attacking at full pace and power, hundreds of punches at a supersonic speed just short of Ranma's own, and more than twice the force, somehow defying the constraints of mass and acceleration... thousands. Herb nonchalantly blocked them all. Ryoga didn't care.  
Hao Bu grunted. The exertion was taking a toll. His hands and arms were severely beginning to hurt. His anger flared. (Never invoke the wrath of a dragon!) Most sense of strategy and subtlety removed, he heedlessly struck Ryoga at full speed, landing two blows for every one from his opponent. Unfortunately he couldn't match the latter's brawn and endurance. They were locked in a contest of primal fury, mauling each other bloody until one of them would drop broken to the ground crumbling beneath their feet. Hao Bu sneered. "Enough of this! Hiryu Shoten Ha!"  
Ryoga was carried off at the centre of a whirlwind. (Akari... I have failed you!) He managed to fire off one last desperate discharge, before losing consciousness.

Ryoga was violently slapped numerous times in the face.  
"Wake up!"  
He looked around. Mint was standing in front of him, with Herb regally observing a few metres behind. There was a sizeable bump on the latter's head. Perhaps that last strike hadn't been so futile after all? Somebody was forcibly pushing him down into a kneeling position, and holding his arms behind his back. The grip was too strong even for him to break. It had to be Lime. That made things easier. "Oh! Some women are skinny-dipping in the river!"  
"Really?" The grip slackened off. Ryoga quickly stood up and stomped Lime full force on the foot, making him scream and jump around on one leg.  
Ryoga grinned. "Sucker!" He was doused with cold water.  
Min Te held the struggling piglet in his fist, and cleared his throat for a standardised recital. "Crown Prince Hao Long Bu of the Royal Dragon-Lineage has deigned to bestow a great honour upon you, an inferior non-Musk. He expects gratitude and obedience, not futile and insolent rebellion."  
Hao Bu raised a disapproving eyebrow at the sight of the diminutive black pig. "Pitiful. This won't do, this won't do at all. Min Lang Te! Li Mao Me! We are leaving immediately! Pack down those paltry souvenirs our guest seems to cherish so much, and inform him that he is either going to be very cooperative, or I will personally butcher and serve him as dinner to the royal stables. If that fails to catch his attention, simply note that his wretched sense of direction allows us to hold his loved ones at ransom any time we so wish."  
Min Te suspiciously stared into Ryoga's eyes. "You heard our liege. Are you going to be a bother?"  
The piglet sighed and dejectedly shook its head.

ooo000ooo

Tokyo: ESP (Extranormal Squad Police)  
Kumon Ryuu, the appropriately named "Anguish Dragon", read the sign on the door to the traditional-looking sizeable shrine. What a bother, having to hang around with a bunch of freaks just to use his own legacy.

It had seemed like a clever idea at the time. The Saotomes had a problem with the Yamasen-ken school originally being designed for violent burglary. So he'd simply enrol at the Police Academy, get some purpose with his life, be admired by all the normal people, and get the freaky transsexual's permission to use "the evil school" for the opposite thing that it was designed for. To redeem the dishonour the latter deemed that Genma had brought to his name. Brilliant! The last part worked without a glitch, but apparently Ryuu "wasn't precinct detective material", and was transferred here instead. He had heard weird rumours about it, but hopefully the officers were just ribbing him.

Ryuu reached out to ring the bell for admittance, but was surprised to be intercepted when the gate swung open ahead of him.  
A thin thirties-looking woman stood by the doorway. She had the darkened complexion associated with Osaka, and was clad like a Shinto shrine maiden. Not particularly attractive (which would usually make her of very limited interest), but with a calm and motherly, and traditionally dignified, expression that triggered some reminiscence of Saotome Nodoka. She politely bowed. "Welcome. I am Mitsumoto Kiyoko, the warden of this manor. We have been expecting you Mister Kumon. Please come in."  
Ryuu followed Kiyoko up a lengthy set of stairs, long short steps leading them over 100 metres into the estate, passing a few levels of plateaus, containing attractively pruned small trees, ponds with blowfish, as well as certain other species he didn't recognise, and gravel courtyards. He was hardly an authority but recognised the tranquil patterns as the work of an experienced Zen-master. What was this place? It certainly had nothing to do with general police work.

They reached the summit. It was more Spartan, with four rather plain-looking buildings evenly encircling a medium-sized Shinto temple, or was it Buddhist, Christian, or even Hindu? When they moved closer, it seemed to be modified, incorporating ornaments and sculptures from each, as well as several Ryuu did not recognise. As they went past the entrance, he noticed two rows of men and women, respectively seated in seiza alongside the walls leading away from the entrance, and like Kiyoko, all clad in traditional Shinto ceremonial garb. They were collectively meditating, eyes closed, with the tips of their thumbs pressed together like vertical pyramids, and the remaining fingers in horizontal analogues.  
A bald man was seated in the centre of the room, mirroring the others, but dressed in wide black trousers and an azure gi-like upper robe loosely patterned after a Shogunate samurai. With traditional short and long daisho tanto and katana blades fastened to his left side by a white cotton belt, both safely contained in unadorned silvery saya scabbards. No ceremonial, but slow, medium-length wakizashi... that might imply a practical or ruthless man. He looked rather young, but his smooth features made it difficult to ascertain a precise age. What truly made him stand out were the strange tattoos and etchings encircling every visible section of his body. Even more remarkably, a large portion of the symbols was of extremely lifelike iron, silver and golden coloration, as if the actual metals had bonded with or replaced his skin, in a vaguely circuitry-reminiscent pattern. His presence had a serene, almost holy, intensity of a nature that Ryuu could not recall encountering before.  
Ryuu found briefly himself captivated in a sense of wonder, his firmly enforced, demandingly harsh outlook swept away and forgotten. He shook it off. Leaving openings was dangerous, and not something that he could afford.

The priest opened his eyes and instantly curled into an upright stance with a relaxed smile on his face. He bowed towards Ryuu. "Muramasa Taikio. I am pleased to make your acquaintance Mister Kumon."  
Ryuu frowned. "Any relation to..."  
"Just so, the unholy sword-smith is unfortunately part of my heritage." Despite the words, he did not seem troubled by the admission. He used his right hand to indicate to the left side of his belt. "These blades are part of my legacy, but have been purged and inverted from the path of corruption."  
Ryuu decided to cut to the chase. "Look, I'm supposed to become a police officer. This isn't exactly my type of environment."  
Taikio's ever-present sincere, alert and optimistic expression did not change in the slightest. "Do you have the patience and interest to listen to a clarification?"  
Ryuu shrugged. "It's not like I'm booked up."  
Taikio gestured towards the floor. "Then please be seated Mister Kumon. I will bring us some hot tea." He went to the back of the room, bringing two steaming cups as he came back.  
Ryuu decided to go along with the suggestion, even if tea likewise "wasn't exactly his type of beverage" to say the least.

Taikio inhaled some energising vapours from the refreshment. "It is a long story but can be rather swiftly summarised. Plainly, my father, Muramasa Hiro, was a particularly affluent individual. He considered himself modern, a man of the world, grasping destiny to unburden him from the past, and the stranglehold of time-honoured hierarchical absolute submission. Sadly, it was not to be. Our ancestor had saddled him with additional unforeseen liabilities. Certain exceptionally dark elements, far outside his frame of reference, sought reimbursement or vengeance; I am unaware which, as they did not tell. What is relevant is that they considered guilt transferable by blood."  
He paused to sip some tea to clear his throat. "Our family was set upon without warning, bound by vile forces and, except for my father and myself, were devoured alive before our eyes. They let me be because their thirst was not yet sated. Somebody had to be left to breed further generations. My father since it appealed to their wit to see an elevated man fall so far." He made another interruption.  
(So this poor little rich boy tries to trade sob stories when he still had a well-off father to take care of him? Big deal! I saw both my parents die, and mostly wandered the streets to survive on my own since I was four years old. Whatever.)

Taikio continued. "My father was a righteous individual. He could not fathom the horror before his eyes. This was not just. This was not right. This was not fair. Lesser men would have said that this should be accepted. This was the way of the world. This was the nature of life. This was inescapable. This should be ignored, or even adapted and embraced into a personal credo. He did not. He decided to see that it would not be repeated, and to seek preparations to fight the lot forced upon us. This was not an act of arrogance, but of ambition. He well understood his limitations, but decided to at the very least help to hold the darkness at bay within Japanese soil."  
Ryuu was pretty sure that he saw where this was going, but decided to put up with it.

Taikio put down the now emptied cup and resumed where he left off. "I was only a little over 2 years old at the time, perhaps fortunately as I did not remember much of the incident, and had not yet bred an extremely strong imprinting at the image of my mother. My father sold off his very considerable assets and invested them through several reliable brokers, to set up a foundation. He then brought me along on a very lengthy, and extremely unconventional, global training trip."  
Ryuu barely stifled a yawn. (This is starting to sound familiar.)  
"It was not strictly the martial arts of which you are accustomed, but rather focused on spiritual exercises, systems and ceremonies. Nevertheless, I was only one man. My father kept himself busy on the side, brokering deals to permanently finance a new specialised, independent section of the police department, while searching for ways to enlist appropriate human resources and equipment, develop an efficient structure, and instruction for specialised competence, and here we are."

Ryuu choose to ask the obvious follow-up. "So what happened to the old man?"  
"Nothing fanciful. Natural causes made him pass away from old age shortly after we returned some years back. I helped set the final wheels in motion without him." Taikio's bearing had remained unperturbed during the entire monologue.  
Ryuu enquired about the second. "So you are the boss around here?"  
"No. We have a command structure related to individual expertise and self-contained units, which is adaptable to specialised situations. In a certain areas that position is primarily held by myself, while I am the student or subordinate in others." Taikio looked gravely at Ryuu. "This is a very young organisation. Our foundation is well bolstered, but we are thus far severely lacking in terms of enforcement. Regrettably, sections amongst regular authorities and bureaucracy have also come to regret our existence, and consider our proactive methods as culturally deviant. Limited efficiency grants them leverage to outlaw our vigilance. If you are everything that I have been told, your expertise will be of utmost importance. You will bear a great responsibility. I cannot stress this severely enough."  
Ryuu nodded. He got it. He took all his pledges very seriously.

Taikio seemed reassured. "You will of course have to undergo a formal tryout Mister Kumon." He stood up, drawing forth his still sheathed katana, holding it single-handedly and poised forward. "Come at me when you are ready."  
(Oh, come on! Look at this guy! He basically comes across like as the lovechild of a bodhisattva and a pacifist. He said himself that he just sat and chanted prayers for over 20 years. How the heck am I supposed to avoid killing him?)  
Taikio tellingly glanced towards the audience. "We cannot use distanced attacks you understand?"  
Ryuu shrugged. "It's not like I'm allowed to use them yet anyway."  
Taikio's eyebrows were raised the slightest millimetre. "You are a man of great honour then? I shall indeed be pleased to make your acquaintance." He closed his eyes with an air of serene awareness.  
Ryuu gaped. He was not sure if he was dumbfounded or insulted. "Are you sure about this?"  
"Do not be concerned Mister Kumon. This is of personal advancement, not of disadvantage or dishonour."  
"Have it your way." Ryuu cautiously attacked, probing his opponent's level to determine how far he could push this.  
He need not have worried, Taikio effortlessly tipped his blade to the sides, only using his wrist, forearm and minimal force but somehow succeeding in deflecting Ryuu's ever increasingly fierce assault.  
Ryuu finally decided to go all out, barraging Taikio with a flurry of titanium-splitting punches, kicks, grapples and sweeps, successfully pressing him enough to use his full area of movement, but Taikio nevertheless consistently ended up at his initial spot. Ryuu assumed a much closer position and launched himself forwards at a pace too swift to avoid even for somebody twice his speed, risking taking a damaging hit in favour of landing a decisive blow. The latter simply stood unmoving in quiet acceptance. Ryuu struck him dead centre of the face at full force. Taikio did not budge an inch. By all logic his nose should have been fractured. Even stranger, Ryuu could not even feel the impact in his fist.  
Taikio opened his eyes. He smiled a bit further than usual. "Mister Kumon, you are raw, brash, and have an abundance of presently restrained power, certainly capable of inflicting a greater scale of destruction than any officer on the force. I have the utmost faith that you will serve as a magnificent complement."  
Ryuu frowned. "Complement?"  
Taikio looked as attentive and congenial as ever. "Kiyoko did not tell? Once you have successfully graduated, as I am certain that you outstandingly will, I am to be your senior partner."

ooo000ooo

Pansuto Taro was climbing a desolate, secluded and nearly vertical plateau. This had better be worth the effort and sheer monotony. According to his Tibetan contact, or rather a corrupt Chinese-stationed officer with extremely good underworld connections, he was not simply allowed to fly to the top of the mountain. The passage had to be ritualistic, by strictly choosing the most demanding and dangerous passages, without any equipment or protective clothing, just him, the ice, the snow, the hail, the wind, the avalanches, the rockslides, and the yetis. Being forced to make an effort to walk right into, trigger or provoke all of them. Never mind. This was a piece of cake for someone of his talents. Those "divine power-sources" turned out to be useless magnetic shoulder pads garbage, and he wanted power, lots of it. He was going to conquer the world someday, whether literally or figuratively, and then kick his boot so far up the ass of that freak geezer Happosai that he would be given a name worthy of respect. This half-empty glass was going to get itself shine-polished, and filled to the brim with something much better than water, if it knew what was good for it.

He reached the top. It was empty save a bare-chested, muscular, slightly unshaven and rough-looking middle-aged man of unspecific nationality, clad in combat boots and green-speckled camouflage-style army khakis. He was resting with his back toward a golden-brown cloth sack, arms behind his head, and leisurely smoking a Havana cigar, stuck between a visible, shiny white row of teeth. Beside him there was a very odd-looking backpack, composed of an assortment of layered leather straps with built-in sheaths, and crammed with an assortment of swords, a few blades, a war hammer, a battleaxe, a spear, and a mixture of artillery.

Taro did not know what to think. "Are you "The Veteran"?"  
"Guilty as charged kid." The man had not seemed to register the question, but nonetheless answered it.  
"I was supposed to meet you here?" Taro cautiously probed.  
"Seeing is believing." Still no visible reaction.  
(Am I just going to stand around waiting while making inanely clichéd conversation?) Taro was starting to get annoyed. Was this guy supposed to be the mythical champion mystics and assassins alike barely dared to whisper about? He took a deep breath to give this joker a piece of his mind.  
"Face front trooper! Incoming!" Something landed with a thud, shaking the stone foundation.

A monumental figure stood before them. Over 2 metres tall, and nearly as wide, with cylindrical arms like massive tree trunks, entirely clad in, or consisting of, a jagged, featureless indigo armour with luminous gilded seams along the pivots, no nose, and vapours of sparkling light in the place of mouth, eyes and fingertips. Taro was in awe... or at least until he noticed the pink mini-skirt, the rugby helmet, the roller skates, the oversized "A" belt buckle, and the golden bling-bling neck-chain supporting a medallion with the inscription "Bow before da kang".  
The Veteran calmly pulled out a picnic blanket from the sack and placed it on the ground. Taro sat down beside him but simply gazed at the display. His peripheral vision vaguely registered how a single feather drifted out over the ledge.  
The being spoke with a booming voice like the chill from a grave blended with cracks of thunder. "I! AM! ABYSSMIC! I WAS FORGED FROM THE ESSENCE OF WHITE DWARF STARS! MY HEART BEATS WITH THE RHYTHMS OF CAGED SUPERNOVAS! I CHANNEL THE ENERGIES OF A DIMENSIONAL NEXUS! THE PRIMAL FORCES WITHIN MY SHELL ARE UNYIELDING!"  
The Veteran merrily unpacked the contents. "Just checking, but you do realise that none of that made any sense right? Guys like us need a little self-distance once in a while."  
"I AM LIKE UNTO A GOD, AND MY WAYS ARE BEYOND MORTAL COMPREHENSION!"  
The Veteran enthusiastically chomped down bites from a ham & egg sandwich. "Of course you'd all like to think that."  
"I AM FIRST OF THE SEVEN! PRYMURDAL! PRYMEVYL! PRYMAUL! STARBLYTE! STARBAIN! ZENTROPY! COALESCING SCREAMING INTO BEING AT THE DAWN OF CREATION!"  
"No patterned first syllables? Sounds a bit budget-bargain to me." Chatting between bites.  
Abyssmic seemed rather self-conscious, as far as its features allowed. "FATHER YAMBAD AND MOTHER WELLSTAYNE DIDN'T HAVE MUCH IMAGINATION!" It said apologetically.  
The Veteran nodded in acknowledgement. "Ah, my Aunt Ethel was like that too. Her poor brats never lived it down."  
Abyssmic paused. "CLUSTROT WAS DISAVOWED! EVEN OUR PARENTS REGRETTED THE NAME! AND ZENSOURCE WOULDN'T STOP INSISTING THAT KEEPING QUIET WAS THE ONE TRUE PATH TO NIRVANA!"  
It wistfully shook its head and recommenced. "I AM IMPERVIOUS TO THE FORCES OF TIME AND SPACE! FOR AGES IMMEMORIAL I HAVE WANDERED THE LONELY WASTES OF INFINITY BETWEEN THE TINY SPECKS OF MATTER!"  
The Veteran began eating an apple. "And how is that working out for you?"  
"I AM A PRIMORDIAL BEING EVER SEEKING FULFILMENT IN MY PURPOSE!"  
"So basically you're just bored and need a hobby."  
"I AM LIKE UNTO A TEMPEST! TESTING THE WORTH OF CIVILISATIONS, AND STRENGTHENING THE HERD!"  
The Veteran threw away the apple core. "Nah, that's my job, sort of, and it's a pretty darned unoriginal rationalisation for genocide. You'll have to work more on that."  
"MINE IS A MANIFEST DESTINY! FOREVER WRITTEN IN THE STARS SINCE THE FIRST SPARK!"  
He helped himself to an ample serving of strawberry cake. "Did they tell you? Not very good speakers I hear."  
"I AM A FORCE OF NATURE SERVING UNIVERSAL BALANCE!"  
"Mm, this is good." The Veteran took another slice, quickly wolfing it down. "Killing people serves a balance? Overpopulation tends to find equilibrium by itself. Basic math really."  
"I AM THE NECESSARY UNKNOWN ALIEN VARIABLE CREATING DISORDER IN A STAGNANT CREATION!"  
"Stagnant? There are so many slump-factors around that you wouldn't believe it. Almost nothing is entirely predictable... excepting yourself o'course." Munching all the while.  
"I AM A UNIQUE SINGULAR BEING DEVOID OF OPPOSITES!"  
"No you're not. Your kind of cheap dialogue is a dime a dozen, and didn't you say that you enforce balance and disorder at the same time?"  
"I CANNOT HELP MY NATURE!"  
"Sure you can. You're self-aware aren't you, and don't have any handicaps either I hope? Positive thinking, that's the key." He seized the last piece.  
"I AM BEYOND JUDGEMENT!"  
"Depends on who's looking doesn't it?" ...And swiftly finished it up.  
"I AM A CONCEPT BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL!"  
The Veteran pulled out a bottle. "It's called amoral. The schooling these days..." He began to guzzle the brandy.  
"I HAVE TRAMPLED ARMIES OF PRODIGIOUS TRANS-BEINGS BENEATH MY FRAME!"  
The Veteran burped. "You really need to watch the diet."  
"I HAVE SHATTERED PLANETS WITH MY FISTS!"  
He took out another of his choice cigars, igniting it with a down-to-earth lighter. "Now I know that you're shitting me. A small fellow like you would have to ram it at a substantial amount of the speed of light to accomplish that."  
"I AM A LAW AND COUNSEL UNTO MYSELF! I HAVE NO AFFILIATION TO YOUR PHYSICS OR CONCEPTIONS!"  
"That would explain the angry loner shtick, and the tacky outfit." He continued to puff away.  
"THE DEATH-THROES OF THIS WORLD SHALL STALL THE END FOR ANOTHER CYCLE! ACCEPT THE HONOUR TO SUBMIT YOUR INSIGNIFICANT LIVES FOR THE GREATER GOOD!"  
"You're really into some home-brewed version of the Thugee-Kali-Hindu blood sacrifice jig huh? Lemme think about that for a moment..." The Veteran grasped his chin in mock-contemplation. "Hmmm... nah! Your logic is as watertight as ever, meaning you-know-what, but I think we'll take our chances."  
"MORTAL FLEA, BRING ME THE GREATEST WARRIORS OF THIS WORLD, THAT I MAY CONTEST THEIR MERIT, AND MAKE A WORTHY OFFERING AT THE ALTAR OF DESTRUCTION!"  
The Veteran wiped his mouth with a napkin, dusted off his khakis, threw his cigar to the side, and stood up. "Destruction isn't sentient, and the Universe doesn't hinge on narrow conceptual segmenting of various processes or ideas, but I guess that would be my cue."  
"YOU? MUHAHAHA! YOU ARE NO MATCH FOR ME! I DETECT ONLY THE SLIGHTEST VARIATIONS BEYOND THE HUMAN NORM! EVEN YOUR COMPANION EXHIBITS NUMEROUS THOUSAND TIMES HIGHER READINGS!"

The Veteran took a traditional British boxing stance. "Life is full of surprises. Stop being a chicken and fight like a man."  
"I CAN EASILY WITHSTAND THE HEAT AND PRESSURE AT THE CORE OF A STAR! NOTHING YOU DO COULD POSSIBLY REGISTER!"  
Taro impulsively stood up. "Are you crazy? This guy is no joke!"  
The Veteran winked and made a thumbs-up. "You watch."

Thun! The Veteran punched Abyssmic in the gut. The latter doubled over, spewing a stream of fire. "Your kind always loses!"  
Thun! A strike aimed at the same spot. "Because you forget the most important thing!"  
Thun! Another gut-punch. "I fight for taking liberties!"  
Thun! He hit Abyssmic in the chin, pushing the being backwards several feet. "I fight for glory!"  
Thun! This blow landed at the centre of the face. "I fight for greed!"  
Thun! "I fight for cynicism!"  
Thun! "I fight for deceit!"

Thun! "I fight for corruption!"

Thun! "I fight for disregard!"

Thun! "I fight for prejudice!"

Thun! "I fight for scorn!"

Thun! "I fight for conceit!"

Thun! "I fight for scapegoating!"

Thun! "I fight for hatred!"

Thun! "I fight for degradation!"

Thun! "I fight for sadism!"

Thun! "I fight for conflict!"

Thun! "I fight for conquest!"  
Thun! "I fight for savagery!" Abyssmic began to waggle.

"I can't loose when everyone believe in me!" A final epic blow toppled the titan to the ground.  
He unfastened one of the blades strapped to his side-placed backpack and yanked the dazed creature upright. "Because feeling good always wins!" Abyssmic's head was sliced straight from its shoulders.

The Veteran immediately seemed to lose interest, picked up his backpack, lighted another cigar, and turned towards Taro. "Now, rookie, I understand that you were looking for some drilling."

Taro felt the ground tremble underneath his feet, accompanied by a rising rumble. The plateau fractured, buckled, and finally crumbled from the strain, as the feather had finally reached the bottom of its descent.

ooo000ooo

Coming up:  
Ryoga is offered a position as Herb's new hobby-project. He doesn't think "Obey, or everyone you know dies." sounds like a very enticing proposition. Ryuu gets a job. Someone apparently thought that it was a good idea to put paranormal law enforcement into the hands of anti-authoritarian Shinto Matrix New Age Hackers. Taro enlists for a crash-course in terrorism for dummies, and is adopted by the spirit of glorified murder.

ooo000ooo


	5. As you go Sightseeing into the Abyss…

ooo000ooo

"Men nearly always follow the tracks made by others and proceed in their affairs by imitation, even though they cannot entirely keep to the tracks of others or emulate the prowess of their models. So a prudent man should always follow in the footsteps of great men and imitate those who have been outstanding. If his own prowess fails to compare with theirs, at least it has an air of greatness about it."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

"The purpose of morality is to teach you, not to suffer and die, but to enjoy yourself and live."

- Ayn Rand

"When liberty comes with hands dabbled in blood it is hard to shake hands with her."

- Oscar Wilde

"Believe, obey, fight."

- Benito Mussolini

ooo000ooo

1 month ago:

"Hfff!" The eyes of the tiger fixed on its infuriatingly limber prey. "Hrrruur!" It pounced. Once more having a magnificent success-rate... at striking sizeable craters in the bedrock, and receiving another kick to the face. Not even Herb could stand up to Lime without resorting to esoteric talents. Ryoga managed... barely. Lime at the very least matched his endurance, and was almost thrice as strong... at least under regular conditions, but Ryoga had a comparable advantage in terms of speed, skill and agility. They were roughly evenly matched, each winning about half the rounds when restricted to straightforward hand-to-hand combat.  
Ryoga temporarily drifted away, wondering how Akari was doing. It had been a full day since he last called her. How would she cope with this? Could she?  
That was all Li Me needed. He struck his opponent with tremendous force and followed up with a few more blows in rapid succession.  
Ryoga rubbed his aching skull, and pushed himself up from the ground. He had to stop losing his focus.  
Li Me placed a massive fist on Ryoga's left shoulder. "It was a good bout brother."  
"I'm not your damn brother!" Ryoga snapped.  
Li Me remained at ease. "You are Tiger. This is all that matters."  
Ryoga solemnly shook his head. There just wasn't any use talking to some people. How could anybody be so pigheaded?

His current least favourite person descended from the sky. "We see that you are keeping yourself entertained."  
"No thanks to you." Ryoga muttered. Referring to himself in plural was Herb's most annoying new habit after ascending to the throne. He was uncertain if it even was a traditional custom among Chinese emperors, or if it was picked up elsewhere?  
"Do not ever speak out of turn again!" Hao Huang Bu snapped.  
Ryoga actually felt relieved. Finally a situation he had a handle on. "So what are you going to do about it?"  
Hao Huang Bu grimaced. "Apparently our generosity has been misplaced. This first-time privilege of proper continuous instruction has caused you to forget your place."  
"You mean with my foot crammed up your ass?" Ryoga grinned. Nowadays he had to take his pleasures where he could.  
Hao Huang Bu kneaded the knuckle of a tightly squeezed fist. "You are Musk. Our laws are absolute. You will show compliance to our sovereignty, or we will devote the full might of our army to compel you to do so, and make an example for every single insolence."  
Ryoga truly hated this guy, but also knew that it wasn't a bluff. Herb would see it as fully justified to pick off anyone he cared about one at a time, and he couldn't stop the entire 14000-year-old warrior-dynasty, significantly undermanned or not. "Because you gave me so much choice in the matter." Grumbling again.  
"Silence! You are about to settle your debts and fulfil your duties!" Hao Huang Bu smartly walked away. Not bothering to voice the order to follow for the scheduled audience at the royal mansion. Disobedience was unthinkable. He briefly glanced over his shoulder, as a touch of spite flashed in his eyes. "Naturally, there is also the matter of your little... 'problem'."

ooo000ooo

Ryuu was getting into the mechanics of his new job. The entire area was blanked and distorted from most perceptions and guarded by a host of protection wards against both conventional and supernatural assaults. Given the nature of their opposition, it was necessary to (at all) work as a headquarters.

The congregation of psychics in the main temple cleaned their minds from distractions through meditation, to expand their spiritual skills, and easier distinguish sporadic and generally fragmented precognitive flashes of significant potential hazards, murders, severe crimes, terrorism and catastrophes.

The first adjoining building hosted a computer central, with an extremely competent staff that compared and coordinated the disparate data for pattern comparisons with real-life spots, upcoming happenings and exploitable weaknesses for more malignant-minded groups or individuals. Being crucial to the running of the entire operation they were very well paid for their work, but the hackers and probability analysts were mainly motivated by the chance to get a part in highly diverse, unusual and stimulating happenings. The conclusions and instructions were then instantly reported to receivers at patrolling field agents like him, selected in relation to suitable fields of proficiency and vicinity to the danger spot.

The third building contained a team of highly assorted and mostly unconventional mystics and more practical-minded espers. Working in conjunction to accommodate for the nature of more unusual threats, providing experience, counsel, crafting defences, formulating lines of attacks, adjusting the odds, and occasionally providing makeshift weaponry, as well as accompanying the strictly hands-on, brute force or combat-oriented workforce for backup, assistance or a subtler touch. Although the surreal nature of certain practices... evidently gave results, but the less said the better.

The fourth was focused on intense, high-level refining of practicable usage for extranormal aptitudes, combat training in a room reinforced by titanium steel and every additional seal or artefact the unit could provide, and learning about respective strengths, weaknesses and mutual harmonisation. The basement also hosted various offenders and creatures too powerful and dangerous to be safely confined in regular prisons, while keeping the people best adapted to handle them close at hand in case of emergency.

The fifth simply contained an arsenal of ordinary or unusual weapons, and a few confiscated dangerous items, kept under lock and seal while awaiting a much safeguarded and carefully handled methodical process of destruction.  
All of the buildings allegedly contained zones with various degrees of tesseract attributes, expanding the available space according to requirements.

Muramasa Taikio had apparently exaggerated when claiming to become Ryuu's designated partner, at least in the conventional sense. Certainly, he was the most frequent one, as their different methodologies did in fact complement each other, with Ryuu's unrestrained heavy damage infliction, and the latter's thus far unassailable guardian runes, or scalpel-like, disciplined application of force. Surprisingly he also carried a shotgun with very diverse types of ammunition, bullets blessed by holy water, Buddhist chants, carrying spooled Shinto O-Fuda seals with shifting effects, the works. Defining watchwords: "Attempting to find something worthy in all men can indeed be a proper conduct, but lack of accountability for grave offences does not equal justice." "Who is more evil, the man that takes joy in murder and torture, and actively supports the slaughter of millions, but makes no excuses, or the man who does the same while maintaining that it is a moral conduct, and is unable to perceive himself as anything but good? Personally, I would maintain that the difference is negligible." or "Eagerness is of great help when properly applied, but so is a cool head." concerning Ryuu in particular.

However, there were others, depending on the circumstances and objectives. Tsukino Hitomi was a tough, no-nonsense, psychic field officer-slash-chemist-slash-occult profiler, having borne witness to a great deal of queasy activities over the years and endured. She referred arcane knowledge for significance, and brought potions or artefacts to counter the effects. She was rather low-rung in herself, but knew enough to use provided utilities capably. Her true strength lay in using this in conjunction with her low-powered but versatile esper skills. Refined to a level where she could clog selected blood vessels in crowds of people from 1000 feet away, alternately provide a spark of fire at the exactly right spot to ignite a distraction or heavy damage, depending on what seemed ethically viable. She tended to favour translocation of trace amounts of customary drugs and poisons of touch or ingestion to incapacitate hostile elements during more worldly missions. Like Taikio, she was averse to killing whenever she could apply an alternative, but in her case it was not in the least due to sympathy or faith, strictly benefit of doubt. Defining watchwords: "Some paint, a basic chemistry set, Google, imagination, and a water-gun are all that you really need." "True evil is sane, and only shadings of grey can face it. There can be no reasoning or middle-ground with something that hates you by instinct to the very depths of its being, for the mere existence of any innocence, joyfulness, compassion or scruples." "There is only one solid validation for prohibiting the death penalty: That potential innocents will never gain a chance for acquittal. Unfortunately it is conclusive, and thus the scales will never be balanced." He had overheard some prattle that she was a fifth Dan adept of Shouki-Do: Psychic warfare. He was not familiar with the term, but also was not in a particular hurry to fill in the blanks.

Fukui Ayumu was an infuriatingly unpredictable, and superficially stray-minded, symbolist chaos-magician who adjusted the odds by significance and action in conjunction, with intuitive behaviour to put little pebbles in movement, causing useful results at later junctures. Defining regularly reiterated annoying catchphrase: "It felt right."

Takenaka Hayato was the assigned contact, a gangly, detached, Jolt-Cola-popping slob, with a hoarse nasal voice, odd facial movements, and a spasmodic, borderline orgiastic, toothy grin, frequently accompanied by fluctuating giggling. He handled or forwarded technical evaluation and calculation of potential damage/weakness points through Ryuu's inconspicuous miniaturised bug and earpieces, while keeping track through a real-time video-feed. A bit excitable, but generally a good guy... tolerable... sort of... sometimes... almost... ok not really. Defining watchwords: "Zomgod! This is so cool! Lookit that head splatter! Do it again! It should score a huge snuff site rating." "So you want to match petty, obnoxious, pompous, relentless, unreasonable spite with me? Huh? Huh? 10 winks, 20 tongues, 30 rolling on floor laughing out loud, 40 roll-eyes, 50 worms and Trojans, 60 manure salesmen calling about the order, your account numbers overdrawn for the Vietnamese post-order brides arriving in a few days, a remote-controlled tazer waiting outside your window, and your WoW level 70 Druid is on the black market! Boo-yah shacka-lak beeeyotch! Match that, weak boy! That's art!" "Come on; go a few days without the medication. Slash your wrists and be done with it. Oy dare you! The live feed should be worth a few chuckles. Oy've got catchy cheerleader animations and everything. Slash 'em, cut 'em, slash 'em, cut 'em, slash 'em, cut 'em... chicken!" "Oy'm not intolerant, or uncompromising. Oy loathe everyone equally, and just haven't happened to be wrong yet. Your pain is funny, mine is a tragedy, and "being good" is what the incompetent resort to when they suck at everything else. One hate. Oy really scare you. Nuke out... Kthx. Bye. Now fuck off, and go sodomise a leper colony."

Mitsumoto Kiyoko, the warden, and supervisor of the sensitives, was the main reason Ryuu actually considered this madhouse worth his time, almost like a substitute mother of sorts, making sure that everyone was well cared for, and devoting extra attention to himself. It was a major improvement that anybody simply gave a damn about him. Ayumu was that weird uncle everyone tended to avoid, and Hitomi might qualify as some kind of dysfunctional cousin, maybe a half-brother in Taikio's case, though Hayato was definitely just an adopted nephew, twice removed. Ryuu didn't really understand Kiyoko, but she was genuine in her kindness, so he still appreciated that. Defining watchwords: "If all people knew how they were loved, they would be able to bestow it unto others, and not one of them would raise a hand in wrath again." "Preserve a life and you save the world. Preserve a thousand and you save a thousand worlds, and untold thousands more in their children and grandchildren. The greatest amongst men would find it humbling to envision them all." "No man is a Messiah. We are flawed beings in a flawed world. When we fail, find it impossible to make an ideal and dedication absolute, or don't consider alternate options, this does not invalidate all the good intents, or aspects, and times wherein we succeed. Inconsistency is a part of human nature, but we can still aspire for a brighter path. Every little step should be cherished as a small triumph."

Ryuu was looking forward to his imminent "graduation"; or rather allowance to work in the field under GPS supervision, and constant reports to Hayato or another contact about his development and procedure, though not consistently stuck with a chaperone. It wasn't as if he was anywhere close to truly finish all the studies, but they needed his brawn. The local Yakuza was slowly growing more esoteric, which constituted a major problem. Ryuu was not exactly a man of gracious social communication, or at least definitely not sentimental one, but during the current routine patrol, while swiftly leaping across near-skyscraper rooftops, he nonetheless offered Taikio a curt: "Some of you people are ok."

ooo000ooo

Taro had quickly learnt the ways of the world. His coach had dragged him all over the globe. They had helped to organise, educated, silently assisted or incited insurgents, militias, tyrannies or drug-wars in Africa, Central Asia, Eastern Europe, the Middle East, Indonesia, and South America. The Veteran handled the interaction and planning, while Taro kept to the shadows. He would have stood out too much from the local, generally extremely insular or xenophobic crowd. Assassinating reformists and diplomats, helping to carry out assorted terror deeds, or personally manufacturing them to be blamed at the opposing side. Moulding the geopolitical landscape to encourage conflicts of all sorts. "One shot, that's all it took to initiate the "First" World War. I was there." as the living legend had said, but it wasn't as if they were truly needed in most cases, just trying to make sure that the world was progressing the way it should, and sometimes to trigger that tiny crucial tip of the scales, or taking down the occasional world-beater. As he phrased it, "It won't do to have the slate cleaned out and start over, after all the work I've put into it."

If The Veteran ever had an ethnicity, he had long since forgotten it. His appearance, perspective and mannerisms shifted slightly to fit differing local standards about what he represented. The need or legend held in the hearts of the local populace, the raging worldwide conflicts, and a gale of wind switching allegiances solely contingent on where it could personally inflict the most widespread amount of damage.

The gung-ho adventurer, the free spirit, the unpredictable coyote, the revolutionary, the swashbuckler, the dashing swordsman, the golden calf, the dragon-slaying gloryhound, the wise and timeless old soldier, the dark paladin, the conqueror, the dreadknight, the barbarian butcher, the lord of battlefields, the eternal champion, all wrapped into one... The embodiment of war and spirit of glorified murder, an eternal rogue and mercenary with all pretences of honour, nobility, civilisation, and higher causes than self-preservation, thrill of the hunt, and axiom of purpose utterly stripped away; shifting and mixing functions subject to any situation.

He was the primeval hero, the star of any story, the man who always looked good no matter his actions or circumstances. Greater than a mere legend; he was a concept who had long since expunged all doubts and honed his essence into pure intent. A merrily laughing, wisecracking, completely confident and unflappable mass-murderer with an eternal Cheshire-smile of shiny white teeth, allaying any gravity with quotable quips, playfully winking while storming into hails of bullets, effortlessly overcoming what should be impossible odds, and gunning down anything and everything in his path with absolute precision; each bullet calculated to cause a maximised amount of prolonged excruciating pain, or noiselessly slitting throats so immaculately that nobody ever noticed until their heads bumped against the soil; An inspiration or nightmare to everyone who ever met him, potentially capable of instigating fanatic fervour in millions at a time.

It was as if everybody he confronted instantly lost all skill, aim, and sense of strategy. Despite no physical abilities beyond a high-level normal athlete, beings that could shatter mountains with a blow or move dozens of times swifter were quickly overcome by attacks that shouldn't even connect, much less tickle. Any opponent was reduced to a hollow shell within his presence. Timeless because he ensured that the world just would not let him die. Taro was in awe of him. He had finally found a worthy role model.

Taro had been given strict directives. No more makeup, no more earrings, no more bangs, and no more net shirt. If he wanted to cultivate respect as a serious player, or even fit in to the environments they moved in, the metrosexual look was a definitely no-go. Only dressing in locally acceptable casual, military, or camouflage clothing with a sooty face, as part of the humdrum.

His instructor usually didn't address him much. He was incarnated pure action, showing by example and expecting absolute attention, but as they were sitting by the campfire at night, he occasionally imparted some crucial nuggets of wisdom at different junctures.

Cut.  
The Veteran tore off a piece of the freshly killed, bloody gorilla roast, spinning above the fire, and bit off a mouthful. "Kid, I've been around for a while, so listen up. Psycho-babble never got it right, you don't "lose yourself" in the field, you find your true nature better than the whiners ever could. Let me tell you, there's nothing like being drenched in the blood of your enemies, cutting through their bodies like a scythe on a field, heart pounding, force of the moment, time in slow motion, power over life and death. Pure ecstasy. You're as alive as you'll ever be. Better than sex. Better than anything. Nothing ever comes close." Words to live by.

Cut.  
"Once you have chosen your true weapons, they are your strength, honour, dignity and very soul. Treat them with reverence, never let them fall into enemy hands, and stride through an ocean of spears to reach them."  
His face had an intensity and gravity that Taro had never seen before. He wordlessly nodded.

Cut.  
"The world is a pretty rough place when you get down to it, and there is no such thing as "principled" or "moral" conduct and "fair play". Expect that everyone wants to screw you over, and you're never disappointed. The "good" are basically just maladjusted geeks, and wussy preachers living in a dream world, too gutless to take on a ballsy view. If you want to grow from a boy into a man you have to kill. That's always been the rite of passage. Period. As far as I'm concerned, if you get away with it that's "good", and I bet your ass you'll be a lot more fun guy to have around. If someone's too weak to break the brainwashing then that's his tough luck. You'll see him on the wrong side of the finish line, bleeding out his guts over the track."

Cut.  
"Watching them move, slaughter and die at your command is a captivating sight. There are few things more gorgeous than overseeing some coordinated, efficient, and truly ingenious carnage. Don't let defeats emasculate you. If the opposition has you spooked, bide your time, take it down on your own terms, and teach the son-of-a-bitches what true terror is all about. Aspire for the grand standard of erasing every trace that your target ever existed."

Cut.  
"Now, if you've got a tyranny the playground rules are mostly just about keeping the people in fear and managing the information. Handled right it can even work out pretty well for efficiency without speed bumps, just look at current China and Singapore for pointers..." The Veteran held a cigar between his right index and middle fingers, pointing it in Taro's direction. "In a democracy the elected leaders are usually free to whatever they like as long as it's not within the country, and either kept under wraps, ignored to death, or properly marketed by the spin-doctors. Mankind has an intense need to find a proper "us against them" to stick together, because if there isn't what's to make them and their place any special? Find or create a convenient external threat, to funnel all their little pent-up fears and worries, and you will get a magnificent war to synchronise your subjects into conformist unity, or collective psychosis, whichever tagline you prefer. Refocusing from any turmoil, trouble, or dissent within your society, and leaving the door open to get away with more policies under the table while everyone is distracted by the shiny fireworks. The classics are tried and true, and always work, more or less. Individuals are smart, but I wouldn't insult the stupid by comparing people to them. The trick is to work with that."  
He took a swig from a bottle of Tullamore Dew blended Irish whiskey. "You can justify anything with the right slogan. The truth is irrelevant, only the charisma, diversion, persuasion, persistence, or conveniently misrepresented paragraph quotations matter, and spicy entertaining lies are always preferable anyway, as any lawyer or marketer worth his salt would say. You're either not accountable, as a humble public servant and representative tip of the iceberg, or just following orders in "nothing personal" honourable duty. It works both ways. At most a fall guy will get impeached and lose the position to an identical replacement. Right of sovereignty, unsigned conventions, diplomatic protocol, or threats of invasion take care of any feeble demands from "war crime" tribunals, and the antagonism makes your backers root for you even more. That's the true beauty of politics. You have no liability for offences so vast that nobody could possibly truly comprehend them, while the petty, comfortable stuff easily creates uproar in the right hands. Wholesome Saturday kill-o-rama with a complimentary "Get out of jail free" card."  
The Veteran threw the nearly emptied flagon into the flames, creating a bright flare-up as the alcohol ignited. "Case in point "One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter, just look it up in the dictionary" basically works for anything. Select an appropriate cause, feel a little oppressed today, make it known that you hug your children, and be romantically ennobled and justified to kill scores of people who have nothing, or a very disproportionate amount, to do with it, while those who disapprove are the nasty dim-witted bigots. Whoever came up with it was a genius. "I love my cause so much that I'm willing to kill for it" isn't too shabby either, but only for starry-eyed ideologues that happen to agree with you."  
He paused, and gazed forward, enthralled by the smouldering embers. "In any case, ambition always trumps compassion, and "justice" is only about enforcement and preservation instinct, devout cry-baby peace-tripping or not. The five permanent members of the UN Insecurity Council are the Earth's greatest weapons dealers. I'd say we've got our work cut out for us, wouldn't you?"  
Taro laughed at the irony. "Haw! Good point."  
"We've already won boy. The entire world is on our side, whether they admit it or not."  
"Well said." Taro held up his own bottle. "Here's to the manliest man alive."  
"That would be me all right." The Veteran mused.

Cut.  
Running at the forefront side-by-side, cheerfully laughing as they advanced, with whirling knives and hails of bullets felling anything and everyone in their path. The Veteran's voice a roar amidst the chaos, stirring the troops into action. "Do or die! Face the glory! Kill! Kill! Kill!" Awesome.  
"Yeeehaaa!" The fever was upon him. This was life. This was beauty, and poetry in motion. This was heroism at its finest. Taro was a Shinigami, a lord and scythe of death, keeping hordes within his massive fists, and deciding when to squeeze. Ideals were for losers, and here the losers ended up dead.

Cut.  
The Veteran had only asked for, or rather demanded, information about Taro himself once, at the end of their 4-month crash course. "See, I'm not doing this for charity. It's an investment for the future, and to see if you have the chops. It's about time to let you try your own legs. Come back in a few decades and I'll haul you to the next level."  
It had not occurred to Taro before, but he had somehow avoided changing into a chimera in any of these months, downpours, or even monsoons notwithstanding. It didn't seem important at the time. It had no part in the ride. He gave the brief rundown, as was the acquired custom, including his surname. Keeping it secret to maintain respect was one thing, but complexes were for lesser men.  
The Veteran was puffing away as usual. "Happosai? Is that squirt still around? It's been a couple of centuries." He briefly paused for thought. "The pansy moniker must go." It was a statement of fact. He blew a puff of smoke from the corner of his mouth. "Now, what you need is the name of a warrior, to soak you in blood and fire. But I get to choose the new one. No questions asked. No compromises. No second chances. It's all or nothing kid."  
Taro nodded in affirmation. He didn't call the shots around here.

Cut.  
The Veteran had made a call. That was all it took. A single call and Happosai showed up at the appointed time to convene with Taro at Jusenkyo by the cursed spring in which the latter was baptised. Taro had expected no less.  
For once the irreverent lingerie-thief actually almost looked serious for a few moments. "I hope you know what you are doing sonny. Do you really understand what he is?" Happosai looked deep into two great dark chasms, as Taro met his stare with the triumphant grin of an apex predator finally cornering an elusive prey. "Yes. Precisely."  
The diminutive grandmaster sadly shook his head, but quickly perked up again, immediately disregarding it. "So what'll it be then? I've always been keen on Negligee myself."  
"The first hero. Gilgamesh... Gilgamesh Taro."

That was it. The last tie to his past life swiftly and cleanly cut off, and he was vastly better for it; reborn in blood and fire, and destined for greatness. Regrettably The Veteran had shot down any ambitions for revenge, much less assistance. "The midget is safe, that was the deal. Do whatever you like, but never break your word unless you can find a loophole. It's bad for long-term business, and he made sure that this one didn't." Taro shrugged. It wasn't as if he had much interest after getting what he wanted. (I can probably live with that.)

Cut.  
In-between the missions Taro had been allowed some time to cultivate minor relationships with various Asian underworlds, mostly to emphasise his accessibility for elite, prestigious, demanding, or extraordinarily dangerous missions, priced inversely to the entertainment level. He was rather fond of Hong Kong and became enlisted as a temporarily employed blue dragon for one of the local Triads during a visit. It was successively receiving further troubles from the "Organised Crime and Triad Bureau", as laws were consistently modified to enable even harsher zero-tolerance crackdowns, and the bribing fees were growing ever steeper. It was aiming to supplement the lost profits through expanded international co-operation. Or more precisely, trade routes of shifting legality with similar enterprises in prosperous reasonably neighbouring regions, partially related to drugs, bootleg tobacco products, cheap counterfeit software, hardware, and assorted multimedia replicas, or possibly money laundering and prostitution, but they were flexible people. However, Japan didn't look favourably on any type of foreigners, least of all Chinese or Koreans, to the level that even minor guilt for W. rape- and concentration-camps was virtually non-existent and taken as a national-level provocation whenever insinuated. Revisionism, thy name is pride. Taro could relate, but it constituted great practical problems of efficient acclimatisation for interactions with regular society, which lead the group strictly to work through far more pragmatic Yakuza, routinely accustomed to employing Asian immigrants within their ranks.

It was an unusual assignment. He had been employed as a middleman "diplomat" to use his fluent Japanese and reputation with The Veteran to gain a better foothold during negotiations. Regardless, being no fool, and well versed in following the wind, he regarded the Triads as too dangerous in the long run. They were waaay too focused on murder by torture for the tiniest amount of individualist "betrayal" of, or rather limited loyalty to, the interests of other "brothers", which potentially threatened Taro with imminent extinction. He had once hunted down a hiding renegade, and administered a modified "death of a thousand cuts", as specified by the commission. Thanks, but no thanks. Bleeding to death while buried in the ground wasn't a particularly attractive option, and neither was being chained atop bamboo as they slowly grew through his body. He may have the strength of a hundred thousand men when he sufficiently focused his chi, and some times that in chimera mode, but he could grow tired or be drugged too insensate to muster more than a flicker, and it would only take a moment of unsteadied vigilance.

After brokering a deal, he used the opportunity to move elsewhere into more modern, high-class milieus. The Yakuza sub-bosses were conniving elitist counter-plotting backstabbing bastards, Sharks attracted by blood that fed on their own, his kind of people, and the pay was better. The Veteran trump card and Taro's own considerable capacity had come in handy with the Oyabun, Kurosawa Takehiko, affording him an instant promotion to directly answerable kobun enforcer status, with the condition of undergoing some minor surgery for a more native look. He had acclimatised in no time. Short smart hair, forceful and contemptuous businessman gait, long-sleeved high-necked satin shirts, stylish Armani suits, too-cool RayBan Aviator shades, twin Chinese Long- and Japanese Tatsu-modelled dragonhead irezumi tattoos at the centre of his chest, with entwined upper bodies that separated to let the tails encircle his torso in opposite directions, and a smaller formal emblem of affiliation, the whole package, owning the ground beneath his feet. Fuck yeah! Best of all, unlike the suffocating "hiding in plain sight" anonymity praxis to which he had grown accustomed, he could openly flaunt his vocation to put fear in the commoners while still being part of a "legitimate" industry. And his refined outward appearance was automatically associated with nobility and superior inner qualities, no matter what he did, while an unsightly detective would have serious trouble. He really loved this country! Gilgamesh Taro was getting ahead in the world as a man who truly enjoyed and took pride in his work.

ooo000ooo

Coming up:  
The ride brakes for incoming lovebirds, as Nabiki tries to put her house and board pieces in order, but generally goes with the flow as usual. Kuno finds a new vassal, and perseveres in his life's mission to induce cerebral haemorrhage in everyone within audible reach.

ooo000ooo


	6. Crack-dating for Dummies

ooo000ooo

"There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

"The first duty of life is to be as artificial as possible. What the second duty is no one as yet discovered."

- Oscar Wilde

"It says nothing against the ripeness of a spirit that it has a few worms."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

ooo000ooo

The present:

Nothing particularly noteworthy transpired over the following few days. Owing to Nabiki's resolute sly urgings, the couple largely refrained from direct contacts, to avoid drawing attention and bargain for time to readjust into the usual imbroglios without raising suspicions, until the now even more overcomplicated mess could somehow be tangled out. Strictly keeping up appearances by going through the usual routines at school, such as swiftly taking care of a few challenges from Kuno. Whenever possible Nabiki managed to sneak in any incessant urgings, fawning, and persuasive justifications she had available to influence her unwilling boy-toy from any guilt-ridden hasty foolishness, plus mostly rationalize and compensate for lingering memories of that farcical debacle by the canal.

Soun had dragged Genma off on a trip to Hokkaido, on a mission to get rid of a nest of tiny bothersome oni that were playing mischievous tricks on the guests of a newly built deluxe restaurant, as well as being a general nuisance for the cooks, creating impossible working conditions, and several resignations. The Tendo patriarch had literally strained against the panda to shove it out of bed, until he simply reminded his old training partner of the latter's status as a freeloader who had a responsibility to help him make an income or get booted out of the door. Ranma had quipped that they might get treated to some choice courses when they were done, making his father's eyes flicker, after which his mother had complained about "unmanly" behaviour, and that had been that. Or would have been provided that Happosai hadn't thought the oni sounded like "really nice guys, who know how to party", which inflamed several more alarmed growls of protests. Nodoka eventually decided to chaperone them, to keep both her husband and the pint-sized lecher under surveillance.

Nabiki didn't see fit to mention that she had produced the "infestation" herself, as well as suggested her father's services in the guise of a disgruntled "customer", and would continue to "help" him get well-paid assignments for as long as required to keep her goon squad family away. Anything serious had incited what she, not so affectionately, had labelled "whine time" episodes of inverted priorities, wherein she actually cared either way. It had taken a severe mental exertion to even push this far, but she was getting a better handle of it. She was prepared to gradually unleash various ludicrous pestering obakemono: tanuki, yurei, kappa, rokuro kubi, hannya, bakeneko, other animal youkai, even some of those odd clog-footed umbrellas, and put a silly spin on the entire ensemble, to work within the similarly nonsensical parameters of the usual antics surrounding her accident-of-birth relations.

Only, as Happosai bounced towards the doorway, to accompany his students on their way to the train station, he cheerfully winked at her. "Old magic m'girl, old magic, even as I reckon things. Didn't know you had it in you." His voice growing fainter as he merrily bounded down the passageway. "You help a poor old man keep spry! If I only were 300 years younger!"  
Nabiki barely suppressed the standardised "Poor old man my butt!" and "You'd still be an unsightly midget!" retorts.  
A mirthful "Wise choice m'girl, wise choice!" reached her from the sidewalk.  
Yep, she definitely needed to stay away from Cologne.

This left her career spinster big sis, which in some respects represented a much greater problem. Kasumi had always been able to read her like an open book, and frequently seemed to feel obligated to "reach and heal other people's humanity by offering kindness and gently talking them into seeing reason". Whatever either diffusely worded abstraction was supposed to signify, beyond trying to force her limiting slave-morality on those who knew better. Meaning: She'd quickly turn into a major squeamish, sanctimonious, sermonising butt-in, predicting any thought-tracks nearly at the same rate Nabiki finished coming up with them, and this time it wouldn't provide "Ooh, moral outrage? Spicy. I'm so scared." amusement factor, she'd make a few subtle choice remarks here and there for blubber boy and the brat, maybe even give Ranma "counselling", and screw up everything. "Miss perfect housewife of the year" was thrown off track by the severe breach of pattern, but that wouldn't last long if they remained living together.

Nabiki had been sorely tempted to simply bury her in the backyard, and create a permanent stand-in, just to be done with it. But even if she managed to subdue her bleeding-heart mood-swings to follow through, the image of a food-burning, sailor-swearing "Kasumi", turned frantic and chain-smoking from incarceration with mounting everlasting household chores, promptly shattered any illusions of being able to pull off the mannerisms. More importantly, Happosai would surely notice anyway. The ancient freak of nature was fond of Kasumi due to her consistently treating him with consideration, and as far as Nabiki was aware, very likely the most powerful fighter in existence. He could literally effortlessly crush Ranma like a bug by using a single finger if he ever truly felt motivated, and somehow managed to stay completely focused, which admittedly was an incongruous premise. Or at least she heard that it had been more than enough to stop Taro.

Coincidentally enough the matter was taken out of her hands when Kasumi promptly left for a paid world tour with some of her friends. Apparently they had become well acquainted with a rich, suave medical exchange-student during some part-time university courses. Nabiki didn't believe in coincidence, even considering that weird happenstance was an everyday occurrence when Ranma was involved, this seemed waaay too convenient to be real. Thank the kami for small favours in any case.

Urd was ready this time and choked the cough. "Yeah, you'd better thank me."

And finally Akane; naive, valiant, protective, friendly, helpful, soft-hearted, self-sacrificing, overachieving, insecure, clumsy, bipolar, temperamental, paranoid, awkward, brutish tomboy Akane. In some ways incredibly tough, and probably the bravest person she ever met, but recurrently completely oblivious, or feeling empathetic and obliged to help people who'd gladly kill or sacrifice her in return, and laughably simple to nudge into knots, disgraceful snivelling, or rampant hysteria, by playing on her pity and insecurities.

Oh yes, she'd be a biiiiig problem for sure. The world's greatest judge of character she definitely wasn't. Give her the puppy-eyed deer hybrid and sob-story knockout combo, and she'd martyr herself in concern and assumed loyalty for her "poor, tragic, victimised sister's unrequited love, and final chance at romance and happiness". Goading her into attempting to stay out of Ranma's way and suffer in quiet, alternately seething with fury depending on how publicly clingy the relationship got, and either starting to cry or giving him a whack with the nearest table whenever he inevitably turned nervous and began to insult her just to provoke a reaction. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt, piece of cake. Besides, somebody had to prepare the food. Ranma considered it unmanly to do so at a regular basis, and strange at it may seem, Akane had actually developed into an acceptable cook with a few select dishes, including curry and tofu. Nabiki herself had extremely limited interest in most forms of menial labour, and would rather avoid it whenever possible.

ooo000ooo

Kuonji Ukyo touched down on the ground with feather-like grace. She clapped her hands. "All right, that's all for today. Let's review what went wrong this time around." She was situated in a rather sizeable yard, surrounded by the lush traditional composition of an even more sizeable estate, with the stately manor of a feudal lord discernible a hundred metres distant.  
Kuno Tatewaki, the current landlord of the abode, and presently encircled by multiple sharp-looking throwing-spatulas and regular shuriken, swayed up from the ground like a base-rounded boxing tool, somehow instantly fully recovered from his multiple bruises. "Aye, 'tis a most fortunate inspiration that struck the brilliant virtuoso, for is it not the custom amongst daimyo to employ the shadow-people as ones instruments? Yea, honing his servants is indeed an honourable conduct, to thus assure their safety in gravely undertakings."  
Ukyo whacked him to the head with her jumbo kitchen tool. "Kuno-chan, if you try that crap one more time I'll beat you up and go home. I'm a businesswoman. I'm getting paid to train you, not the other way around. My ancestors were Iga shinobi of Kansai. I just use a vaguely similar style, and I'm definitely not your servant, got it?"  
"Mine apologies fair Ukyo, thy talents are only eclipsed next to yon dazzling beauty. 'Tis not mine intent to bring thee offence, for the flash of righteousness be a noble lord."  
Ukyo blushed, but gave him another hard whack for good measure, upon which Kuno opted to keep quiet for the time being.

Konatsu apprehensively walked forward and respectfully bowed before the aristocrat. "My apologies for bringing you harm Kuno-sama."  
Kuno grandiosely waved it off. "Nay, for 'tis fulfilment of duty to thy liege. He is most pleased with thee."  
Ukyo grimaced. "You can't say that I didn't warn you." A scene of violence followed, whereupon she huffed and walked towards the entrance.

The cross-dressing kunoichi worriedly glanced towards the fallen swordsman. He would never speak out of turn by stating it out loud, but Ukyo-sama had truly improved drastically due to their refining exploration into deeper, purer aspects of her heritage. She had been mostly self-schooled and sincerely thrived from the daily sparring and instruction. Lately Kuno-sama had sort of blended in from the side, since he reasoned that it was just and proper to employ their services, but his style didn't really change much, or turn more versatile, just improve somewhat in speed, reach and power. Though if he managed to get rid of his self-imposed borders he could truly turn into a force to be reckoned with. Konatsu moved to follow his boss, and hopefully eventual love-interest.

"Hold!"  
Konatsu was a bit taken aback. "Huh?"  
Kuno was once again fully recovered. "The perceptive falcon hath discerned thy fancy for yon delightful vendor of fine cuisine, and hath resolved to assist thee in thy quest. For 'tis the duty of a proper lord and samurai to well serve his subjects, and share of his wise guidance, aye e'en to his oath-sworn shadows. Thou shan't find him lacking in his vigilance."  
Well, Konatsu had mentioned it on a daily basis, but it was awfully nice of a noble like Kuno-sama to take pity on and help him out.  
Kuno strode forward. "Wouldst thou heed his hard-earned wisdom? For the venerated guardian of the nine-fold talents has great insights that he will share for benefit of worthy disciples."  
Konatsu eagerly nodded.

Kuno's eyes glazed for a few minutes... He straightened up. "Foremost among the truths: Shun mad relatives! For these are blights that scheme to pollute thine innards, and court favour with reptiles and sorcerers. Aye, e'en seek to tarnish thine unsullied countenance, and betray a noble lineage of native soil for mere pineapples, farce, and sunshine."  
Konatsu thought that sounded very reasonable, as he certainly didn't want anything to do with his, and decided to listen further. His generous new friend was evidently well versed in these matters.  
"Succeeding maxim: Persistence is of essence, for women are shy creatures and seldom admit their worship, lest unwavering devotion shalt reassure and bring them solace. To claim a sacred trust thou shalt recite florid poetry and lend her thy diary, for thine hidden beliefs shalt surely ascertain thy most epic and heroic nature."  
Konatsu had hoped that the first bit was the case, and was happy to hear it confirmed. It seemed like he was already well on his way to succeeding. He had never thought of poetry, perhaps something about wonderful luxuries like rice-balls, vegetables, and hard bread?  
"Third proverb: "Maidenly protests are but hidden longings to probe thy staunch commitment. Endure this test in stately resolve. Pledge thine most gallant esteem and worship through amassed depictions of yon elfin features, and proclaim a gracious honour of seaside courting. Enjoy the fruits as petite sandals touch thy visage in fiery passion."  
Sandals? Konatsu supposed that Kuno-sama meant hands, but decided not to embarrass him with a correction. The first bit seemed somewhat suspect, but he appreciated the thought.  
"Fourth dictum: Exhibit thine mastery in the illustrious art. For a consummate champion shalt surely be pervasively favoured by fainting damsels. But see to their delight through playful exhibition, for this shall ascertain that he is not aloof beyond mortal reach."  
Well, it made sense that someone should turn happier from entertainment, and Kuno-sama's watermelon-slicing trick was pretty neat. If he ever learned to use it without a trigger he would turn scary.  
Kuno sighed. "Aye, 'tis a grave tragedy amongst the greatest of men, to be too much for single ladies. One cannot choose to bring dishonour, for they art lost and empty bereft of patronage. Be glad that thou art but a humble ninja. The trials amongst exalted samurai art arduous indeed."  
That sure did sound difficult, but Konatsu couldn't relate.  
"Fifth decree: But take heed, young varlet! Never shalt a valiant protector waver in his restraint. Nay, he shan't strike down yon fairer sex e'en should he be besieged by rocks and lightning. His chivalry must convey an unassailable assurance. When fraught with peril thou shalt be a bastion for fragile maidens, and vanquish any foe to bring them shelter."  
Wow! Kuno-sama was such a gentleman. Konatsu also wanted to be that cool. He could learn a lot here. Though Ukyo-sama didn't seem particularly helpless.

Kuno scrutinised his addressee for a few seconds. "At first thy lord vows to amend thy mannerisms. For all maidens are won through equivalent panache. Verily, thou shalt be a man amongst men and all of womanhood shall take notice."

ooo000ooo

Ranma had felt very awkward at breakfast and dinner times. During the months since the Jusendo incident Akane had occasionally glanced at him with a delighted... certainty of sorts, at times when she didn't think he noticed, and beamed whenever he quietly met her eyes, in unspoken assurance. It was as if a halo had illuminated the room.

He no longer managed to hold her gaze for more than a fleeting moment. Striving not to shirk away, but looking sideways and stretching his senses for any distraction in the vicinity. Akane had initially frozen up with a shocked, empty expression, and later demonstratively huffed, illustrated by a twist of her head to the side, but her eyes had lost some of their lustre, and... He felt empty without that sunshine. She had immersed herself completely in her schoolwork and studied like a lunatic for exams, or trained by herself at the other end of the dojo, keeping away from him, except to prepare food, which they ate in silence at opposite ends of the table. If she only could whack him as usual, showed some form of reaction, anything to break the ice. At least she maintained a friendly, outgoing facade in school together with her friends, or as the captain of the volleyball team, but every now and then he noticed little dejected cracks in it.

This was not honourable behaviour. Granted, he usually wasn't particularly concerned about either behaving like a girlie-girl in public, using disguises, lies and misdirection to make fun of and use others, or cheating to "win" fights where he was severely outmatched. But he had several firm lines he just didn't like to cross unless he was loosing his judgement from humiliation or desperation. Abusing Akane's trust was one of them. Still... he didn't want to hurt her, and Nabiki had said that she would be able to handle it much better than him if he just gave her some time and leeway. Maybe that would give him a chance to patch things up again? He grimaced. Of course it wouldn't, and Nabiki was a career huckster, an expert at empty promises. He needed to handle this... soon.

A currently very common sight greeted Nabiki; Ranma laying on his stomach, brooding on the floor, his hands nestled at the back of his head. Under normal circumstances he would simply cry and hammer at it with his fists for a while, alternately howl revenge at the moon, and then rose to the challenge of somehow overcoming whoever or whatever had humiliated his sense of self-worth. But this was different, not simply a problem he could hit or compete against, and he turned intensely confused from trying to figure out how to handle it. If building an implicit relationship had been severely awkward with continuous foot-in-mouth disease, what about attempting to end it do without sounding like an "arrogant insensitive Casanova jerk", while further aggravating the problem and severely hurting Akane? He was decidedly inadequate for sorting this out on his own, and was woefully useless to her in his current pitiful state. She needed him as an asset not a detriment. It was up to herself to get him out of his funk, and soon.

Leaning close towards his ear she looked deep into his eyes, pulled him close towards her bosom and made hushing noises... then softly whispered: "You snivelling little brat. Untangle your panties, grow a set, suck it up, and deal with it."  
Nabiki chuckled loudly to herself, hilarious, but no.  
Yelling "You quitter! You sad, weak, pathetic, little bug! You spoiled petulant child! You whimpering, self-pitying, wallowing, whining, emo, cry-baby, drama-queen, attention-whore, parasitic, bleeding-heart, indolence- and entitlement-nurturing, weenie, pussy, faggy, swill-gobbling, parasite good-for-nothing! You sicken me! You disgust me! You're a disgrace!" then spit at, deride and slap him until she got a lash-out response probably wouldn't cut it. Negative reinforcement at times of susceptibility seldom did in the long run, no matter how fun it might have been, but rather greatly acerbated the problems by undermining fundamental self-worth, or what was left of it. Condemn someone unbalanced for being in pain, and the wound would usually only get infected, or at best get channelled into the hollow and desperate, reserve-eroding, self-destructive form of drive, which could create permanent nervous breakdowns in the long run. It was basic logic. Normally that was strictly a pleasant bonus, and moulded the recipient into even easier manoeuvrable prey, and a safe venting resource, but she had to approach this a bit differently. Genuine deep-rooted despair couldn't be beaten out of people. It had to be replaced with reliable hope, joy, purpose, and self-esteem. From a strictly objectivist standpoint, coaching was a very delicate and jerky balance between carrot and whip, and humans tended to be such wretched, flimsy, and woefully, even repugnantly, worthless and inadequate little creatures, with trivial merit of existing unless extensively proven otherwise. Luckily, she was immeasurably superior to the herd. It was strictly a matter of embracing advantageous perspectives, and succeeding before they blew up in your face too many times.

"Ryuu called from the academy."  
Ranma didn't move "Yeah?" his voice a hollow monotone.  
"It seems like he's turned into quite a hotshot. They want him out on the streets and are cramming him through the training."  
"Good for him." There was still no reaction.  
"He said that he wanted to spar with you tomorrow, and that "you'd better help him rust off the techniques" or something." She might have caught a faint flicker of interest, then nothing.  
"I suppose."  
Nabiki paused. (Ok, this is bad.) "How about going on a few dates?"  
Ranma looked up to the side. "Huh?"  
"You know, like with the probe-bot, but during daytime and without the junkies. Unless you'd prefer to invite them for some rustic charm." Nabiki afforded him a winning Cheshire smile.  
He absentmindedly puffed. "Hhh, that was so bad."  
"And you can do better?"  
"Sure, like, like..." He threw up his arms in exasperation. "Aah! I can't crack jokes on command! You know that."  
She swapped for a smug smooth fox grin with nearly shut eyelids. "But it made you think of something else. So what about it?"  
He stared at her for a few moments. "... I guess, but how would we avoid anyone noticing?"  
"You go the rooftop route, I keep a copy here, and meet you undercover outside of Nerima."

ooo000ooo

A young woman was addressing her companion at the bar. She was dressed in a tight white tank top, blue cap and spandex pants, with a popular brand name written in bold vivid letters along the right leg, fingerless net gloves, elegant shoes with thick high heels, and a black leather jacket. Embodying the consummate image of "western, dumb, blonde, blue-eyed, leggy, big-busted sex-appeal" that had seeped into the subconscious bias of Japanese popular culture.  
She was heedlessly caught up in a personal monologue. "So, like, there we were, and we were, like, totally drunk, and then there were these guys who were, like rough, but rich and artsy and stuff. And then, like, one of them said I was all hot, and I said dude I totally know, and he wanted to paint me, and I was, like, totally cool with that, but then, like, this friend called, and she had found this really cute IPhone, and..."  
Ranma tuned out the prolonged babble, and persisted in sipping his Piña Colada, which had turned out to be far more treacly than he was comfortable consuming as a male. Maybe he should try an "Irish Car Bomb" next time to compensate?  
This was not what he had expected. Meeting his date waiting outside a department store one or two hours ago, going into a large game parlour, competing with some punks in "Dance-Dance Revolution", followed by "real" dancing at this place. Thankfully the bartender ignored that the "20 years old" at Nabiki's faked ID looked suspiciously young.  
It had been a fun evening all in all. He had enjoyed showing off in both, performing aerial flips and feats of seemingly impossible flexibility, deliberately restraining his speed to a pace the spectators were barely able to follow. There was no point of looking like a blur to an audience. (Who's the man? Me that's who!)  
"...These, like, totally crazy..."  
But he had no idea how Nabiki managed to keep this up. Staying in perfect character the entire evening, and only responding to the name "Janine". He'd been a worrywart and insisted that she'd be careful not to give anything away, but this was ridiculous. (She has to run out of material sooner or later, doesn't she?)  
"...And they were, like, really trashy, like hellooo, but she just doesn't love herself..."  
(Right?) "Look, you can cut it off. You've made your point. I get it."  
"...And I tell her that she's, like, this total whore, and if she ever... Like, what do you mean cutie?"  
"Dump the make-believe and be yourself."  
"Like, who else could I be Tetsuo?"  
(Uh-oh) "I'm not named Tetsuo."  
"Are you, like, a stalker or something? Tomiko set me up on a blind date with this, like, totally cool rich martial arts dude." She looked baffled and a little scared.  
"That's not me. Dammit, I stood her up. She's going to kill me." (It figures. Not even Nabiki is that good of an actress)  
"So this is, like, a mix-up or something?"  
"Phyeah, it seems so. Look, what's your full name?"  
"Janine Sinclair."  
"Saotome Ranma. Do you have somewhere you need to be? I could get you there pretty quick."  
"I, like, like this place... and you're pretty cute. This Tetsuo dude was probably a total stooge anyway. Tomiko always falls for these total douchebag types." She familiarly played with a few loose strands of his hair and moved closer, just inches from his side.  
He could feel her breath on his cheek. She seemed a bit tipsy. Was it getting hot in here? "Look I really need to go, and you've had a bit too much to drink. Can I call for a cab to your hotel or something?"  
"You're, like, such a gentleman. Will you be gentle with me... alone?" Her pouting lips glistened with perspiration from the dancers surrounding them.  
"I... I..." He tried to stammer out a reply, and took a large swig, to gain some composure.  
"Bartender! A "Sex on the Beach" with two straws!"  
"Splff!" Ranma coughed. His shirt covered in rum mixed with coconut and pineapple juice.  
"Ha! Priceless! You should see your face!" His companion gave him a patented fox grin. "You're still way too uptight. I had you going there for a moment." She once more motioned for the now intent barkeeper. "Some tissues for my companion please! And bring that order, it's giving me ideas."  
Ranma didn't like Nabiki's intent gaze. Her irises reflected a bright orange blaze, threatening to devour him. "Extra Vodka. My boyfriend needs to loosen up for our midnight swim."

ooo000ooo

Akane stuffed her sizeable rucksack with change of clothes, some schoolwork, a music player, just in case, a lunch packet consisting of water, fruits and sandwiches, and assorted archaic weaponry, bokken, bow & arrows, katana, her father's custom-crafted samurai armour from when he was an adolescent... He probably wouldn't approve, but she could handle him, the sweetheart was terribly devoted to his "little girls"... Yes that should suffice. (Why does that dummy have to be so difficult? What is wrong? Why doesn't he say anything? We've barely spoken for over a week. Dummy, dummy, dummy.)

She tried to brighten up. It was a weekend, it was the end of spring, she had the entire Sunday ahead of her, and best of all, she was going to get some proper training in the open countryside, and she'd work out some of her frustrations. It was the one really exciting positive thing that kept her mind off her other troubles right now. Then she could practice the lessons in the dojo at home. Well, with one exception. She didn't want to destroy it. The repair costs were bad enough already. They had only experimented so far, and it would take long to perfect.

She lived for this, to excel and feel the rush of battle, of challenge, to feel that she mattered, that she was good enough, that she had a purpose, but it seemed like nobody ever wanted to give her proper tuition and sparring. Even daddy had suddenly stopped her intense childhood regimen once he felt that she had turned too good for him to be certain not to hurt her. They just left her to advance as best she could by repeating her old moves solely by herself, and then belittled her and all her need and efforts instead of helping out or giving any useful pointers. So she had to try being good at other things to compensate, but that turned out even worse. It had been so hard, and everything just made her feel confused, puny and useless. Never any encouraging words or advice at all. Except for her friends it seemed like those around her mostly either wanted to harass her like Kuno and the boys at school, manipulate her feelings like her sister, beat her self-esteem into the dirt over and over like Ranma and Shampoo, or dismiss her as a student like Genma and Happosai, just because they were too chauvinistic to train women, and then expect her to feel good about it... Nobody ever took her seriously, except maybe Doctor Tofu... and Ryoga. He had trained her once, for a little while... but then he got lost again, as he always used to do.

It would be nice to see him again. He was such a kind, dependable, innocent, and protective boy, almost like a little brother always eager for approval, and he never belittles me, he just tells me how to do better, and now I get to polish my old weapon skills as well. Although he tended to get a bit... childish or confused at times, but that awful woman... how could he have let her do that to him? Well, just keep out of her hair and she will keep out of mine, or help her out when she really needs it, and she might turn nicer with time. Those were good rules of thumb, even if some people were... difficult at times. She went out the front door and started springing towards the nearest Shinkansen depot, making a detour to help some children find their way home. Who knew, maybe one of the others would visit as well this time around?

ooo000ooo

Another day, another date, this one centred on an air balloon drifting over Tokyo, with a spacious lavish basket, and purchased champagne & strawberries... There seemed to be no end to Nabiki's versatility. She continued to amaze or frighten him, or some weird mixture of both. He wasn't at all used to or even comfortable with these kinds of luxuries. It made people soft, and couldn't compare to the freedom and intensity of the wilderness, even if he had a nice view, but she still managed to drag him around by a noose. He didn't like that, not at all. He was his own man, not some pet or plaything. She tried to come on to him sliding forward on all four limbs like some cat-snake mixture, while swapping attractive guises in rhythm with every step, and trying to do something, or some things, to arouse his mind and body again. He supposed he should have guessed that the food was intended to be some kind of mood-setting foreplay, but he kept control and pushed her away. His will and metabolism control were absolute. He was the great and unconquerable ace wunderkind Saotome Ranma. The guy who always won... well eventually sort of won, even if it was just the final round after being beaten a few times in a row, and only through trickery, surprise, distraction, dumb luck, using a specific weak spot, or all of the above, but that didn't matter. He found a way out of anything, period.

He hated being used. Screw Nabiki, screw those puppy-dog eyes she used, and screw that "lost tormented vulnerable waif" sob-story bullcrap she kept trying to sell him to get sympathy leverage, preferably accompanied by a very atypical lamentation-fit. "She was a victim of circumstance who was forced to get tough and tried to make do in a harsh world among brutal, powerful, and hypocritical abusive people, and everyone kept judging her terribly unfairly… Since nothing whatsoever is the way it seems." Shyeah right! She was a callous, calculating, unflappable bitch who profited from that most of them felt honour-bound never to attack normal defenceless people, due to sticking to the stern Giri norms and laws about martial arts in Japanese society. She regularly emptied her father's account, since he was ridiculously overprotective towards all his "little girls" and would instantly forgive her anything, without so much as a "go to your bed without supper". She had a younger sister who always tried to think the best of her; so stealing most of her stuff, and driving her nuts for fun & profit, was open season. An older that didn't, but gladly sacrificed her youth to take care of all household work, and thought her sister could be talked into "being nice". She was ridiculously popular and spoiled silly by all her "boyfriends"-slash-blackmail victims, and stayed on the sidelines while enjoying being untouchable... at least as long as she didn't piss off Shampoo or Kodachi. Not to mention that the only extraordinary people she grew up around were her father, Akane, Tofu, and Kuno, none of which were the least bit dangerous to her no matter what she did. Her? Suffering? Bullied and neglected? No joy in life? No choice? Self-sacrificing?! Sure, that made tons of sense. He was proud to say that he didn't budge one inch, not when he was prepared. Well... she might not be entirely bad. She had turned into a giant eagle and let him ride on the back. Then made a few more so he could do some acrobatics between them. That was his kind of fun, and cheered him up a lot.

They landed amid some secluded shrubbery in the expansive park surrounding the imperial palace, just outside the border of Nerima. Somehow avoiding any interest from the visitors. This was Tokyo after all; everybody dealt with supernatural creatures, goofy aliens, implausible threats, and just plain wacky happenings on an at least monthly basis, somehow keeping the mundane world running side-by-side with the fantastic. A curiously disappearing air balloon would be nothing in that context. The only things registering would be unseemly social faux pas. Nabiki usually assumed what he supposed was her idea of attractive, forceful, and sophisticated "successful intelligent modern woman" types, but this time she looked more like a stunning classic Japanese beauty. Bright multi-coloured robes with patterns of birds and flowers, a silly vastly oversized white ceremonial hat with an adorned smaller blue top and two pointy white bristles pointing straight upwards, a decorative fan, and bearing like the finest Shogunate feudal lord consort or elite geisha.

She humbly bowed her head. "Shall I bring your lordship fresh grapes and hot towels, dance and play the flute, or engage in stimulating conversation Saotome-sama?" Figures. A basic personal joke about their surroundings and everything she wasn't. He was catching on a bit further to what made her tick. More importantly, more sloppy clowning around, making up for mostly being so high-strung about public dignity, just to scream a challenge of irreverence to a suffocating society, much like lots of girls in her generation... not that he'd know anything about that of course! What if anybody they knew recognised him? Women!

They walked along one of the typically spotless lanes, eventually coming across a very familiar figure, very engrossed in the scenery, and staring at the palace with reverence. Ranma grimaced. "Oh shit! It's Kuno."  
Nabiki kept her cool. "Just keep your big trap shut and he should forget it in 15 minutes."  
Kuno had apparently noticed their presence, and indomitably marched towards them, stopped at a distance of about 2 metres and histrionically pointed his wooden sword towards Ranma's head. "Fie knave! Wouldst a base snow monkey frolic amongst flowering Sakura trees? Wouldst the blind groundhog cherish the resplendent glory of the dawn?"  
Ranma tried to "inconspicuously" whisper sideways. "He sure likes the sound of his own voice."  
"You have no idea. He's anaesthesia on legs." Nabiki's usual sardonic tone was in full effect. (I should have seen this coming. This masquerade is a sure-fire relic-flytrap.)  
Kuno unmindfully carried on with his tirade. "Wouldst a common swine soil the raiment of an angel? Wouldst vultures dine with noble falcons?"  
Ranma looked slightly perplexed. "Does he have any idea of what he's talking about?"  
"None whatsoever."  
"Wouldst the bat leave his dark and dismal cavern to leech upon the ample bounty of an unspoiled maiden?"  
Another murmur to the side "I think he just said that you have a nice rack."  
Nabiki responded with a jaded "You don't say?" glance.  
Kuno dramatically stooped a knee to the pavement, head bowed, with the remaining leg posed right-angled in front, his bokken positioned like a flagpole into the ground, and grasped Nabiki's hand in his own. "Enchanting vision of endless virtues, I beg thee, leave this low-born cur, and consent to the patronage of thine evermore devoted samurai, for he shalt honour thee with undreamed glories from brightest morrow 'til dusky twilight. Aye e'en betwixt the moonlit midnight hours shalt thy servant remain e'er vigilant. Thine every fragile womanly tear shalt be soothed and graced by the balm and presence of his noble visage."  
(Ok, that does it.) Nabiki resented male conceit. Female conceit too for that matter, as long as it wasn't her own.

"My knight, wherefore hast thou forsaken me?" The voice originated from an un-braided wild-haired Ranma-chan, clad in blue shorts over a white tank top, an energetic free spirit, apprehensively biting a fingernail, and with confusion marring her innocent features. "Wouldst thou not share my untamed carefree freedom, and claim me as thine own?"  
A picturesque earnest Mariko dressed in a white cheerleader uniform with a pink miniskirt, her hands joined in praying posture. "I offered thee mine heart; wouldst thou trample it into a filthy trench?"  
A cute but stern Akane, clothed in a loose gi dyed in cerise and auburn tiger-stripe patterns, with arms crossed over her chest. "Shall we be treated then like humblest geisha, mere courtesans and trollops to be disposed and summoned at the slightest fancy?"  
The nonplussed Kuno attempted to recover his composure. "My ladies..."  
Akane relentlessly continued. "I say shame on thee! Thou art no samurai of noble lineage. Prove thyself worthy of mine fiery spirit and choose thine affections wisely."  
Kuno froze up, sat down in seiza, arms crossed over his chest, eyes unfocused, tilting his head to one side and then the next. Kneading his brow. Looking back and forth at each of the eager girls standing before him. Crooking his eyebrows, visibly straining in intense concentration, beads of sweat running down his forehead... and promptly collapsing to the ground.

Nabiki smirked, and laughed triumphantly. "Wahaha! ...Heh, I always wanted to see that."  
Ranma used a hand to grab hold of Kuno's hair, raised the head, slapped it a couple of times, noted no response, and unceremoniously let it fall down. "I think he blew a fuse."  
"Well, duh."  
Ranma discarded Kuno upside-down in a vacant dumpster, and they leisurely walked away, quickly disregarding the entire incident.

ooo000ooo

Kuno Tatewaki strikingly opened the entrance to the Ucchan's, strode past a curiously shorthaired and standard waiter-uniformed Konatsu, currently serving some table-seated customers, and sat down by the combined grill and counter. "What ho, lovely Ukyo! I yearn for the scrumptious treats of thy fine establishment!"  
Ukyo blushed. She was hardly ever flattered like that. "That will be a house special with extra shrimps as usual then?" Offering a welcoming smile.  
"Aye, such feasts art worthy of emperors, nay the finest divine courts!" Kuno proclaimed.

(He's such a polite boy. A bit melodramatic and overbearing, but manly in an old-school way, and a good tipper too. Why can't my Ran-chan learn such gallant manners? He's not even visiting to gobble down my food anymore.) Ukyo placed dough on the grill, and readied some sauce and toppings. (Well, at least he's still much better than that clueless, cowardly, jackass waste-of-space Ryoga.) She noticed that her waiter paid a little too much attention. "Konatsu! Don't slack off or I'll cut your 10 Yen for this hour!" She leaned forwards. "So is everything all right sugar? You look tired."  
Kuno got a faraway glint in his eyes. "Alas, 'tis most passing strange. Dreams hath dethroned the roar of heaven, and tasked him with a quest. Verily, mayhap he is obliged to neglect thine evening practice."  
(The poor sap loses some grip for every day. I think I caught him blushing when I kicked him in the face yesterday.) "Uh-huh, so what kind of quest is that?" Ukyo probed carefully.  
Kuno dramatically rose from his seat, knit a fist, and looked upwards. "A cleansing of spirit to be true of purpose!" Then sat down again as he noticed that he was looking at the roof.  
(I hope he doesn't consider some pilgrimage. He pays good money for sparring.) Ukyo tried to look interested, still smiling affably. "Why don't you tell me about this dream?"

ooo000ooo

Coming up:  
Shampoo gives a lecture in the school of hard knocks. The board reads: "Shampoo too-too scary, and very cute! Now we go date, or else!" It is unknown if Ranma ever recovered, or when Nabiki stopped laughing.

ooo000ooo


	7. Ball of Yarn

ooo000ooo

"The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

"Men shrink less from offending one who inspires love than one who inspires fear."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

"Nothing spoils a romance so much as a sense of humour in the woman."

- Oscar Wilde

ooo000ooo

"You guys suck!" Ryoga stood surrounded by a mound of torn bedrock, rubble, craters, minor chasms, and speared or carved large boulders stretching in every direction for several hundred metres, collectively creating a remarkably inhospitable area. His brown sweater flaunted multiple lacerations, but revealed no evident scratches or bruising underneath.  
Ryuu ripped himself loose from a 2m deep human-shaped mountainside indentation, and shook off the supplementary 5-ton rock positioned in front of his face. "You just got lucky."  
Mu Zhi dug his way out of a 4m diameter wide crater, overflowed with debris. "We shall claim victory the next time!"  
"I hope so. Shape up quick, or I'll lose my form." Ryoga mumbled, and then raised his voice. "You can spar some on your own if you want. I'll sit down and think."  
"I never conceived hearing such words from a monkey's lips." Mu Zhi blurted out.  
Ryuu smirked. "Don't hurt yourself."

Ryoga ignored them and sat down. He needed decent regular exertion, and not just to for the joy of fighting. It could be his only way to get a handle on this mess... Nah, that didn't even sound convincing to him, but it would be a start. (Stupid Musk! Stupid body. Stupid me… Why can't I hit something to make this go away?) Maybe he should take Ryuu's offer? It was getting a bit humdrum around here, and it might help a bit. Besides, his unintentional wanderings had limited his career prospects... He felt sad about that. He had enjoyed learning at school.

Mu Zhi was attacking from a distance, with steel talons fastened at his toes and soles allowing for a perpendicular stance towards a 120-degree 30m tall ridge. He unleashed a cluster of thorny black spheres from within his oversized sleeves. "Untold laments of the blowfish!"  
Ryuu wisely avoided contact and simply jumped far above the resulting teargas fog. "Gold rope binding soar!" He caught Mousse's midriff in the lariat and heaved. The latter severed it with a sword swipe, but it produced sufficient momentum to send Ryuu careening towards him. "Fierce Tiger Opening Gates Blow!"  
Mu Zhi was forced to relinquish the advantage of high ground, and dexterously spun sideways as the overhang toppled in a rockslide. "Belch of the Orochi!" He blew out a concealing cloud of fire, as Ryuu's legs launched him right through, as a straightened projectile towards his rival's predicted position on the ground, arms crooked and fingers primed for attack.  
"Pride of the Fisher-King!" Ryuu plummeted straight into rectangular mesh, each corner laden by an iron sphere, and wrapping itself around him alike to a bola. "Demon-God Big Mad Dance!" As Ryuu spun indistinct air-ripples launched in every direction, instantly shredding the netting.  
"Oni's cudgel!" Mu Zhi was already halfway through an offensive, and struck Ryuu to the face with a large mace, sending the latter careening sideways, while ploughing a lengthy ditch along his path.

Ryuu instantly flipped into an upright stance, and rubbed his sore jaw. "That's not even a proper special technique! You just want to sound cool!"  
Mu Zhi had once again leapt high into his native domain, the air, snorting indifferently, while using his spacious robe and lithe paper-thin massive scythe-blades to decelerate the descent, but largely ignoring the bonds of gravity. "The stratagem worked, did it not? That is all that matters."  
Ryuu took advantage of the distraction, and violently arched his arms to the sides. "Demon-God Assault Bomb!" A few dozen vacuum projectiles released upwards in unison, each capable of cutting through a few metres of solid steel.  
"Hail of a thousand sorrows!" The hidden weapons master let loose an even greater torrent of chained or roped blades and bludgeons to meet the transparent void slice barrage in mid-flight, shattering on impact, but dispersing the emptiness through influx of air, or redirecting the conduction routes. Despite this, some reached the intended target, and he markedly grunted from the cuts of the impact.  
Regardless, the lion's share of the darts remained, plunging towards Ryuu. He sprung to meet them head-on, swerving or making a path in-between, but received several scratches, drawing blood along his torso, and a chain found its way around his legs, constraining their movement. He barely managed to break free in time for touchdown, gracelessly landing with a thud and loosing a precious moment of initiative.  
Meanwhile Mu Zhi had streamlined his body to descend more rapidly, awaiting Ryuu as he came down. "Guards of the Jade Emperor!" He started spinning, manifesting several dozens terracotta statues fastened in steel wires.

Ryuu was caught in a deadlock, being forced to punch and kick the clay sculptures into pieces, unable to press forward. "You must be the nuttiest opponent I've ever had. Half of these aren't even Chinese; they're garden gnomes and lucky cats!" He got annoyed and simply blasted Mousse with a mid-strength vacuum blade to the face, toppling the latter over. "Where do you even come up with these things? In the last few hours, you've tried to stab me with a 3-metre fork, then hit me in the head with a giant saltshaker, and now this? And if you're going to say "martial arts eat-as-you-go" for the first two, I really don't want to hear it."  
"Mu Zhi had used the momentum to instantly roll up. He straightened. "These are venerated arts passed down from master to exclusive student."  
"Sure, like that training-potty you used the other day."  
Mu Zhi maintained a proud bearing. "The Middle Kingdom was cultured as your lands were barbarian."  
"Because it's so useful against Mongol hordes." Ryuu scoffed, and assumed a squeaky voice. "Please good sir, if you spare me, I'll give you something for the pressure!"  
"It's better than never coming up with anything on your own!" Mu Zhi snapped.  
"Man, are you in for a shock. Fuujin's Shears!" Ryuu initiated a swift sequence of attacks, which Mousse nonetheless skilfully managed to evade... Except that it didn't help. He kept on taking damage. "How do you like that? Duck, avoid, whatever, you're still going down fast!" Every strike or kick complemented by an indistinct vacuum blade, squeezing inwards from the sides, and pressing Mousse backwards while cushioning them with hastily erected, chi-reinforced buckets, shields and frying pans. "I'm coming clooooser... I'm going to get youuu!" Ryuu smirked and readied the Iron Fang Fingers, his strongest, dual-variant, move. It was as good as over.  
*Poomf!* "Mist of despondent morrows!" Ryuu instantly spread his arms to disperse the shroud of teargas with an air-quake. It was an old trick that he was wise to, but remained an efficient distraction. "Fire from heaven!" He shrugged off the multiple stings from the rain of explosives falling from above, and quickly focused on the hazy surroundings to give his bizarre foe the trashing he well deserved. "Chime of a new era!" Mu Zhi slammed a giant iron bell on top of Ryuu, and struck it with a two-handed sledgehammer.  
"Yooouuu aaaarrrrrrrr sseerrrrriiaaaaaooosssslyyy pppppiisssssnnnnnggggggg mmmeeeee offffff!" Ryuu split the barrier with a "Fierce Tiger Opening Gates Blow", head still ringing.

Mu Zhi noiselessly sneaked up from behind, and positioned a fan of five long feather-reminiscent razor blades along his opponent's throat, each stabilised by a corresponding finger, while his remaining hand pressed a sai against Ryuu's left shoulder. "My win."  
"Oh! Shampoo?" Ryuu sounded genuinely surprised.  
Mu Zhi lost some of his focus. "Eh?"  
It was enough respite for Ryuu to twist slightly and place his fingertips next to Mousse's respective temples. "Mexican stand-off."  
"You're bluffing! You can't use the Iron Fang Fingers from that position."  
"Want to try me?" Ryuu smirked.  
Mu Zhi's face stiffened in indignation. "Damn you! It's a draw then."  
"Heh." Ryuu walked away from the loosened grip.  
"That was a dirty trick!"  
"That's what they all say. Besides, it's part of my style, and you're not one to talk."

Mu Zhi still sported a disgruntled expression.  
Ryuu sneered. "You want to impress her bad huh?"  
"I shall! Watch!" Mu Zhi theatrically spread his arms and unleashed over 20 spears into the sky.  
The lances fell in a symmetrical circle, each releasing a firework on impact, which travelled 10m upwards and detonated in an alternating display of sparkles and festoons  
The architect looked energised and knit his fist in enthusiasm. "Yes! This will prove my worth to Shampoo!"  
Ryuu picked up a sooty paper-strip. "Sure, she must love to be covered in burnt confetti."  
Mu Zhi blanked. "I'll work on that."  
"Why bother? She basically wants you dead, and you still won't take the hint."  
"The more she spurns my love the more it grows."  
"There are some very unflattering words for that."  
"My devotion will touch her heart!" Mu Zhi earnestly retorted.  
Ryuu sighed and wearily shook his head. "You're both pathetic. P-whipped without even getting any. Little kids who are tough in a fight but know nothing. Now me, I keep them on a short leash to show who is boss."  
"If you're such a Casanova why don't you show us some girlfriends?" Mu Zhi dubiously remarked.  
"I'm not trying. If I really want I can make them swoon, no problem. Just watch." He raised his head towards the sky. "Eeyy baby! Be a good girl and fetch us some booze!" An unexpected gale on an otherwise windless morning immediately hefted him 20 metres off the ground, flipped and hurled him downwards at far higher pace than normal, while circumventing any attempts for acrobatics. He slammed headfirst into solid rock; making cracks a few metres from the centre.

Mu Zhi gloated. "You sure showed us!"  
Ryuu remained balanced upside-down with criss-crossed arms, looking rather grumpy, but otherwise unharmed. "Silly-willy ha-ha! It doesn't change that you're a tactless clown."  
"Or that you're a callous jerk" the bladesman evenly responded.  
Ryuu raised, or perhaps lowered, his eyebrows in indifferent disbelief. "You're even more myopic than I thought. Cute and cuddly little Shampoo is worse than I've ever been."  
"How dare you?!" Mu Zhi trembled with outrage.

Ryoga seemed mostly uninterested, but pushed himself up from the sidelines. "Well, whatever. Let's try this again." He bent backwards and uttered something incomprehensible in an atypically shrill tone, vaguely reminiscent of birdsong. "This time you'll get some help. I need a real workout."

Akane came into sight from the surrounding woodland, yelling from the distance. "Can I join in?!"  
Ryoga's face contorted. He did not need this. That kind of precision... to handle 3 elite fighters, while restraining himself against and ensuring the safety of a fourth... but he would shame her if he refused. Doomed if he did, doomed if he didn't... He eventually beckoned in affirmation. "All right, but be sure to wear your armour, and don't hold back!" "Serious challenges"? That should teach him.

Ryuu snorted in derision. "What, it's not enough with you two dick-weeds? I have to babysit little miss PMS now too?"  
Akane irritably turned towards him. "What's that supposed to mean? I can fight too!"  
The hardened wanderer didn't even dignify her with a look. "Oh sure, maybe against other playground rabble, but let's face it, you suck donkey-ass compared to any real players."  
Akane was getting red in the face and visibly straining to keep her temper in check. "So how am I supposed to get better without any training?"  
"I don't care, and not my problem. You're a washout, and if you hadn't noticed I'm not a gentleman. Scram and go back to your dollies and cooking before you get yourself hurt." He demonstratively looked down on her like a supremely conceited businessman facing a beggar in the dust.  
Ryoga angrily took a step forward to intervene, but noticed that Mousse held him back, slightly shaking his head and mouthing "wait". He didn't have to bother, as Akane exploded into action, drew her bow and unleashed an array of perfectly aimed chi-enforced arrows as she leapt towards the mocking warrior, deftly strapped it to her back as she drew her trusty shinai, and attacked in an imperceptible flurry of motion.  
Ryuu had grabbed each and every arrow out of the air, let them go to the side, grinned, and met the assault.  
"How!" Slashslashslashslashslash.  
"Dare!" Facekickkickkickdodgesweep.  
"You!" Slashparryparrydodge.  
"When!" Dodgejumpneckspinekick.  
"Did I!" Rolloveravoidvacuumbladesnotimeforarrowsstayclose.   
"Ever not!" Aurasensetinglingalloffensenodefencecallhismoves.  
"Treat you!" Avoidfingersgetcloserslashslashslashslashslash.  
"With respect?" Shinaistrikefootkneegroinmegapalmchinuppercut.  
"Why does!" Stopsneeringyoujerkhithimhithimhithimhithimhithimh ithim!  
"Everyone think!" Flowbelowarmshinaibacktrikespineperfect!  
"That they can!" Neckstrikewatchoutsensehimparryparryparrygetaway.  
"Stomp on me!" She panted from the exertion, and sommersaulted backwards 20 meters to get a breather while unleashing yet another barrage of arrows to stall. "Whenever they feel like?!"  
Ryuu made a sweep of his arm to shatter the projectiles, and flashed her a smug mocking grin. "Because you make it so bloody easy?"  
That was the final straw. "AURA PUNCH!" Akane drew on reserves she didn't even know she had, and exceeded her limits, as her stored frustrations and confusion were emptied into a single blow.  
Ryuu was pushed backwards like a leaf in a hurricane and slammed with extreme force into the side of the mountain surrounded by a 10 metres wide giant fist imprint. He counted the bruises and gave a barely noticeable satisfied curl of the lips as he dusted himself off. "All right baby, you're in."

ooo000ooo

Shan Pu was not happy. Her husband didn't visit her at work anymore, and whenever she used her bicycle to reach him rapidly during her breaks or when her delivery-routes brought her to the neighbourhood, he simply evaded any surprise cuddle-attacks and swiftly departed before she even managed to invite him to a date. How dared he ignore her? It didn't even succeed to provoke silly violent Akane, who simply lightly huffed almost imperceptibly, and continued walking without slowing down, as if she wasn't of significance, and this time it seemed genuine. Shan Pu was many things, but irrelevant was not one of them. It was time to give her wayward spouse a reminder of that.

She had sneaked into his house in stealthy cat-form to see if she could overhear anything interesting, but never managed to detect him. It was much more desolate than typically, only stupid Akane. Whatever could Ranma see in her when he had a strong beautiful woman like herself? The ugly awkward tomboy could never give him comparable amounts of pleasure and excitement. Shan Pu and husband would have great adventures together, and she would allow him to save her from danger, even if she didn't need it. Then he would carry her in his arms, and they could make love before the dim light of the stars. She sighed. It would all be so romantic.

When questioned, Akane didn't admit that anything was out of the ordinary, but it was obvious that she was hiding something. She had never been a good liar. Things would be so much easier if Shan Pu could simply directly kill the woman closest to Ranma. But she had learned enough to see that he would hate her if she did, so she had to wait for a moment when she could blame someone else, at least unless things got desperate like with that wedding she wrecked. Oh, and the sneaky sister was there too, but she wasn't so important. Ranma didn't like her at all, and there wasn't much point in asking, threatening, or paying her for information, not even with some throwaway magic trinket. The information was almost uniformly unreliable, and impossible to see whether she was lying. Maybe Shan Pu would simply give her an honest choice to tell the truth or die if nothing else succeeded. Remote-control shiatsu wouldn't work for anything beyond giving her simple instructions to carry out... at least not yet.

Instead she had tried to trace his movements, first by inconspicuous surveillance outside the house, and when that proved fruitless she decided to shadow him discreetly from school, but he was too quick for her, and simply disappeared without a trace. She had hunted down wolves through rural China, tracked Ranma over a continent, and still couldn't find him!

When Shan Pu had asked great-grandmother for advice, Ke Lun seemed slightly surprised, or maybe just amused, but told her that things may have soured between him and Akane, which could be useful. Perhaps husband had finally seen the depths of his foolishness? That was very inspiring, but why did he have to make poor Shan Pu a victim in this? She had never done such things to him... well maybe a few times. Still, she had been provided with an amulet to hide her presence completely, in addition to sensing the similarly concealed, and a potion to increase her speed greatly. Although she had to rest for at least 16 hours afterwards, with strict orders to subsequently make up for all the free time. Now to making some plans.

The following day she once more observed and waited for him from top of Furinkan High School, carrying a small backpack. (The others think that I have no talent. They say the greatest teacher trained me all my life, and I still cannot challenge husband for 3 seconds when he is greatly holding back, and trying not to hurt me. That stupid Mu Zhi is far stronger fighter, because he poses genuine threat, and they will all leave me behind with time. This may be so, but they forget. This is not my strength. Not the asset of most elders. )

As predicted, after swiftly setting off and jumping between a few dozen buildings, he cautiously moved in an irregular zigzag pattern. Sticking to walls, balconies, roofs, alleys while taking care to notice his surroundings, but she thus far had no problem keeping track of him, while he seemed completely unaware of her presence. The reversed roles felt deeply satisfying. (Silly husband, he should know better. I always outsmart him.) She almost lost him when hiding in a few large crowds, but she was a born hunter, the pride of her tribe. She would not fail.

He ultimately caught up with a fashionable older lady... Too fashionable. Shan Pu assumed that she tried to hide being much less attractive than true natural beauties like herself underneath the face-paint and stuffed bra. He chatted a bit with the urbane woman, but didn't seem very comfortable, hauled her up in his arms and took off, ricocheting upwards between the sides of two minor skyscrapers, and returned to sprinting the rooftop path. That was odd, as far as Shan Pu knew from interacting with these feeble "normal" city-dwellers during her never-ending delivery routes, most of them would be terrified by that kind of experience.

They landed in front of a circus, walking around amongst the animals, training acrobats, jugglers, lion-tamers, strongmen and clowns. Ranma started to show off, juggling with 20 knives and other sharp objects at the same time, doing aerial manoeuvres the mainstays couldn't possibly match, balancing two elephants on his respective index fingers, but stayed far away from the lions. Shan Pu thought that it seemed a bit too odd to be a date, but still didn't like that he went out to see other women. They could take advantage of his trusting nature. He took off on his own, leaving the pretentious lady behind.

Well, in any case Shan Pu still had to teach him a good lesson, and have some fun doing so. He was not going to take her lightly. She opened her bag, seizing a handful of very frightened mice and a small thermos, and intercepted him at a safe distance while he took a more leisure pace in a long narrow lane in the outskirts of Nerima. She simultaneously threw both the mice and the enclosed liquid into the air. As it made contact with the rodents an equal amount of tigers landed in their place, quickly panicking as they caught sight of each other, and wildly careened towards the ailurophobe. He shrieked in terror but didn't have the time to avoid being trampled, twitching on the ground. Instant Toraniichuan: Strike one.

He eventually came to, more or less, and staggered forwards. At least the incident hadn't lasted long enough to trigger his Cat-Fist psychosis.  
Shan Pu calmly picked up her cell phone, quickly referenced a long list of neighbourhood streets and selected an appropriate number.  
"Hello, Mayu speaking, can I help you?" An overly polite female voice  
"Sumo wrestlers take bribes." A trigger phrase selected because no Japanese would ever utter it. The speaker went quiet. "Panty-thief in pigtail. Outside. Now!"

Ranma tried to calm himself down, but was not succeeding, and still shivered in fear, but made an effort to struggle forward, however slowly, although resting would be good. He had made it to the intersection of a more crowded street. "Help police! I recognise him! He always tries to steal my underwear!"  
Huh, why were all those people looking at him?  
"Get him!" A crowd of irate women, suddenly armed with mops, descended on him. "Enemy of all women!" (Ouch.) "We'll teach you a lesson!" (Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch! Ow!) He jumped above them and sprinted away before he received any further bruising, still followed by the mob. At least it almost made him forget about the giant cats.

"He tried to have his way with me!" Uh-oh, even more people "He took my jewellery!" "He ran out on a tab!" "He painted my house pink!" Ranma and the mob briefly stopped to look in disbelief at the last speaker, and then resumed. "He robbed a bank!" "He owns a gun!" "He trips old ladies!" "He let animals out from the zoo!" "He's a disruptive jaywalker!" "He litters on the streets!" "He doesn't think the Emperor is divine!" "Who cares?" "He said that Junichiro Koizumi is uncool!" "That traitor!" "He likes Koreans and Chinese!" "Even worse!" "He likes women over 24!" "Eew!" "He's a whale-hugger!" "He provokes Gajira!" "He dropped the bomb on Nagasaki!" "Are you high?" "He stole my savings!" "He stole my baby!" "He stole my wife!" "He stole my wife too!" "No he didn't, I'm right here!" The horde had now increased to over a hundred people: Strike 2.

Shan Pu enjoyed the spectacle, munching on pocky sticks between calls as she went along from a safe distance. Memory-erasing and remote-control acupressure were so useful in combination once she got a handle on it, and fun too, even if it was only usable once per application. First it was mostly to get even with insolent take-out customers, make them behave like chickens in public, be rude to their bosses, come on to women in front of their wives, lose focus in trafficked streets and such, without an inkling of how this came to be. Then she had realised that amassing a network along her entire distribution route could come in quite handy for matters she deemed sufficiently important, and it only took a few extra seconds, of which they would remember nothing. It wasn't as if she cared to any further extent than she had when indifferently reflecting mandrake poison gas on the visiting Nekohanten clientele. Regrettably the effect was likely too brief to work efficiently as alibis for people she'd prefer to get rid of, and it was too uncertain to use brainwashing to get Ranma, even with daily application. Imprinting eggs could work, but would turn him into an uninteresting, weak-spirited, obedient servant, and were too easily reversed. That permanent love-pill had been a much better bet. She had tried to apply it, but now it was lost. She sighed in disappointment.

Still, she didn't want her husband dead, just humbled. She flung a dagger towards the support of a passing water tank, dousing both Ranma and his pursuers as it fell.  
"Hey, where did that felon go?" Some of them had recovered quickly, and were already wiping away the water clinging to their eyes.  
"I'm just a cute little girl caught up in all this! How could you all want to hurt me? You're awful!" Shan Pu had to admit that female Ranma's faked tears were convincing.  
More people were coming to. "Felon? Where am I anyway?" "No idea, I was reading the newspaper at home, and poof, here I am." "Strange, that happened to me too, well except for the newspaper." "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "Ditto" "You mean that none of you knew that pigtailed guy?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?" "Who?"  
The crowd dispersed, most of them muttering irritably. "Well, thanks a lot for wasting all of our time!" "I missed my favourite show for this!" "That's what I get for being an upright citizen!" "No good deed goes unpunished!" Unfortunately Ranma had been confused and crammed enough for Shampoo to hide in the crowd and sneak up on him-her, whatever.

Shan Pu used a just pick-pocketed mobile phone to call another number. She cleared her throat and focused. "Hello police? I found poor vagrant. Triads brought to use as prostitute, but escaped. Just child. Maybe raped. Collapsed in street. Yes, address here..." Modulating her voice to the perfect likeness of an alarmed older woman. She didn't really have much trouble using personal pronouns. She had plenty of times in the past and understood Japanese fluently, even if she preferred, and found it easier to use concise communication. She also liked to sound cute. It helped to trap husbands, made others underestimate her, and felt fun, attractive, and free.

Ranma woke up. (Where am I? For that matter, who am I?) Several large arms had hefted her up. Police officers, at least she remembered that. "Don't be afraid. We will take you to the precinct and give you some food and rest. Then you can tell us all about it. We'll get those bastards." Ranma felt compelled to go along quietly: Strike 3.

Half an hour afterwards Ranma was once more on his way home. Luckily she had spilled some Darjeeling tea, which instantly shook off the confusion, and inconspicuously snuck out of the room before he was dragged into even greater complications. He felt a bit bad about ditching the nice officers without an explanation, but really wanted to avoid any potential impeachments or questions he couldn't properly answer.

"It could just be me, but I think Shampoo may suspect something." He mumbled  
"Obviously." Nabiki's distinctive sarcastic intonation appeared out of nowhere.  
Ranma suspiciously looked around. "Are you spying on me?"  
"Come on, why the surprise? Did you really think I'm that sloppy? I need to keep tabs somehow."  
"Where are you?"  
"You don't want to know."  
Ranma stiffened.  
"Nice buttocks by the way."  
He jerked in alarm. "You said that you wouldn't do that!"  
"Oh, chill out. Your braid-lace is a counterfeit. Now listen."

Shan Pu observed as her husband made his way to a minor theatre, met the woman from before, and went inside. She turned into a cat and stalked him from the roof beams above, to an assembly hall filled with older women and little girls. The stage was rigged with various ropes and contraptions. It certainly didn't seem like they were here for karaoke. Ranma bowed before them and started repeating some of his acts from the circus. Juggling with several sharp objects in one hand while simultaneously walking a thin rope. Alternately doing advanced acrobatics while balancing heavy weights on his head and fingers, flawlessly throwing knives along the outline of his female companion, during a one-hand stand while wearing a blindfold. Some stage-magic with the woman disappearing or being sawed into two, but that wasn't very interesting. The show took a little over than half an hour. He bowed again to general applause, and the audience left the room. The lady handed him a suspiciously low sum and then left. Shan Pu sighed. Husband truly was too gullible, but it was useful too, so she would charitably forgive him.

Ranma sighed. Did that cut it? Was it sufficiently convincing? A stream of water drenched him from above. His clothes were suddenly entirely too large. A large creature picked him up in a clawed paw and placed him between its teeth. He recognised that smell, it was a ca-ca-ca-ca-. He couldn't even say it. The pink feline spat out the fiercely squirming rodent just before it set him off, and slinked away, satisfied that she had made her point. It was acceptable if husband wanted to make some money, but not to treat her without respect: Strike 4.

Nabiki appeared in the place of his now loosened boxers.  
Ranma briefly forgot his predicament. (I knew it!)  
She unmindfully soaked him with some hot tea water.  
He looked horrified, but quickly fastened his remaining clothing, opting to go commando for the time being. "She's giving me the chills. She really is."  
Nabiki shook her head, but made an effort not to laugh in his face. "Oh don't be such a baby. You're fine now aren't you, and instant curses only work once, right? She can never use the same trick on you again."  
Given the circumstances, Ranma couldn't help feeling like a small crippled animal, unhurriedly lobbed around by two bored predatory cats, as they were playing with their food. "Do you think she's satisfied?"  
Nabiki displayed a smug grin. "Ohhhhh yeah. She got her pound of flesh and then some. Allow her to connect with some ambush-hugs from here onwards and she should be fine. Just make sure to protest as usual to keep up appearances."  
"Couldn't we have done this some other way? That last bit was horrible."  
"Well, it was either this or spreading nastier rumours to counter."  
"Like what?"  
"That you're way into debt and making a living as a male escort."  
"Hey!"

Shan Pu found Mu Zhi waiting for her, blocking the entrance to the Nekohanten, solemn seriousness mixed with that usual eager and needy expression she found so annoying, but there was more steel in his eyes than she was used to. (Aiya, what now?)  
Mu Zhi put his left forearm to his chest, and swept the other sideways in a grandiose arc. "I challenge you to a formal contest."  
Shan Pu blinked, but replied in flawless Chinese. "This is very sudden. You do realise that winning has no relevance, right? I rejected your proposal as a child. This still holds true by our laws and customs."  
"I am aware of this, but you only find men far stronger than yourself as appealing, and while situated in this country you have seemed free to choose in this regard. I have been convinced to prove my worth through ritual combat, and am now confident to do so without imperilling your person."  
(Without hurting me? Arrogant male, remember whom you are addressing!) She offered a serene smile with closed eyes. "I see. Mu Zhi is a much greater man than I thought. "Solemn Will" is indeed a fitting designation. Wait here."

She ran into the store and quickly returned, carrying a huge cake, still smiling. "It is a gift to celebrate our future happiness."  
Mu Zhi wept in touched fervour, and accepted the cake into his hands. "Oh Shampoo! You finally understand!" It exploded in his face with great force, covering him in gunpowder and custard cream. Taken by complete surprise he instantly fell over, but remained conscious as he lay in the resulting smoking crater.  
"Game over. Shampoo win." Shan Pu had switched to Japanese, as if to imply that he was unworthy to be properly addressed. "Stupid Mousse. I already know you is stronger, but no matter. You is too stupid, too-too annoying, not strong as Ranma, and sounds as broken record. Mousse make me sick! Always try ruin Shampoo happiness! Should die for foolish behaviour, but Shampoo would have do all chores alone. Go jump cursed springs!" She was sure he would recover in a few seconds, but didn't offer the chance to continue, and simply walked past the entrance, leaving him with unquestionable finality.

Shampoo felt very satisfied with herself as she went to her well-earned necessary rest, despite having to work harder for a while to make up for all the free time. Let the others underestimate her because she wasn't as strong in childish battle-plays. She was a warrior unencumbered by convoluted silliness of "civilisation". As if the legacy of her 3000-year-old tribe wouldn't outlast it, as it always had with other empires. People here were so deluded that they thought mercy made them "strong". They needed to say "evil" as excuse to kill, or they couldn't sleep. Dumb culture. Why bother? The world is not that convenient. Good or bad, weak or strong, it's all the same. The field of battle makes no differences. Just kill, and sleep well anyway. The goal matters, the way does not. If you wish to get something, your only responsibility is to remove all obstacles as swiftly and cleanly as possible. She longed for the direct and honest values she was used to, but had to admit that this city was more interesting and diverse, and she had turned rather fond of fighting videogames.

She murmured to herself. (I am clever, and they are not. I can plan and they cannot. I can track my prey across the world. I can use and protect against magic herbs. I can name artefacts and learn to make potions. I can use shiatsu to make them happily walk into death, or forget anything, even if only for a while. I can make much mischief, even when just for fun. They may be far stronger. It is not important. I am far more dangerous.) She drifted off into the tranquil slumber of the blameless.

ooo000ooo

Coming up:  
Ranma settles at following Nabiki's leash, but is a stray dog that stubbornly refuses to learn any tricks. Konatsu follows the teachings of a curious guru. Ryoga would like a contract renegotiation about that stalker-nanny.

ooo000ooo


	8. Change or Cry

ooo000ooo

"The one who adapts his policy to the times prospers, and likewise that the one whose policy clashes with the demands of the times does not."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

"The Ideal Man should talk to us as if we were goddesses, and treat us as if we were children. He should refuse all our serious requests, and gratify every one of our whims. He should encourage us to have caprices, and forbid us to have missions. He should always say much more than he means, and always mean much more than he says."

- Oscar Wilde

"The lonely one offers his hand too quickly to whomever he encounters."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

ooo000ooo

Yet, another day at the office, or more specifically acting as a brute force, first line of defence, storm-trooper, circumventing yet another doomsday sect on the verge of releasing gas into the Shinkansen subway tunnels. This one was led by a bald, white-robed, hellfire & brimstone enthusiast, or more specifically, a consummate sadist addicted to self-righteous, hypocritically blindsided, genocidal eternal torture fantasies, labelling himself good because of it, and stressing the weight of his convictions by speaking in faux-archaic language, akin to reciting 100% verifiable, non-tampered, Heavenly Scripture.

The gas was engineered to contain an ingenious, extremely infectious mind-eating virus, designed to affect specific portions of the brain in continuous regulated dosages, theoretically adjusting humanity into simplistic semi-lobotomised automatons. According to the precognition- and statistical probability analysis guys, it would have infected most of Tokyo's millions of citizens within days unless somebody had devised a cure in record time. Moreover, being one of the three greatest industrial metropolises on Earth, with tens of thousands of back-and-forth business- or combined pleasure-/methodology surveillance-trips handled every day, the rest of the world would soon follow.

Kumon Ryuu was somewhat satisfied, an odd sensation for him. The job was turning out to be everything he had hoped it would be, and given his metabolism, he was even allowed to drink on duty. Inflexible regulations would never work for such a diversified assemblage. Still, he supposed that the nut-job might have had a few points if he wasn't so unbelievably indiscriminate. There were plenty people so wholeheartedly over-the-top malicious that they deserved anything that came down on them, and needed to be put down if they gathered enough courage to act on it. That certainly got hammered home at times.

Hitomi was in the process of taking one of the captured members to task about the, to her, mind-boggling inconsistencies.  
He reacted quite well to the shown interest, and smiled in a relaxed and gracious manner. "You misunderstand. I do not personally see the Scripture's message as "being nice" to others. As humans, being what some might label "hateful bastards" is an intrinsic part of our nature. It is fully acceptable as long as you believe in the Saviour's deliverance. This will simply make the populace more receptive to embrace Him."  
He deftly stabbed a pencil through the temple of the associate seated next to him, who promptly fell to the floor in a pool of his own blood. "DearLordblessandforgivemeformysinsAmen! ...See? And regardless if you strike us low from our Sacred Task, all upheaval and dismay will ultimately benefit our Cause, as the lambs turn to Faith to gain refuge from any wolves at the door. Whether through shame, terror, self-denial, asceticism, self-harm, compulsion, epileptic delirium, justifications, or inquisition, pay Allegiance or get your soul kicked in."

Hitomi looked over and mentally cauterised the fallen man's wounds. "I see. You twist any balm, hope, appreciation, ethics, delight, faith, tranquillity, wonder, and grace until nothing save emptiness and psychological torture remains, to harvest only the darkest, least spiritual aspects, all-encompassing terror, cruelty, constipation, and governance. To make your victims quake in dread, doubt, self-hate, deprivation, and submission to rigid, emotionally stunting, unnerving ritualism, rather than enjoy the beauty surrounding us, and embrace the truly heavenly ethereal. At best virtue for all the wrong reasons, and you somehow take pride in this. For what it is worth, you are not going to benefit during the larger part of your remaining material life."

As the leader was dragged away, he decided to make a speech to his flock. "Infidels who walk across the dark mists! Be not of false cheer! Yea, for the coming Apocalypse shall turn the vapours into choking acid, and leave only the Virtuous to walk amidst the Earthly Kingdoms! For ye know not the thousand-fold Agonies and Torments that ye shalt Suffer! Oh how ye shalt Suffer, as Righteous Retribution Strikes ye Low for the Audacity to oppose M... His Will! For the most resourceful earthly Tortures suffice nothing beside Heavenly Vengeance!" He displayed a feverish, ecstatic smile. Some drool was escaping from his lips, as he salivated in anticipation.  
"Our Salvation is at hand, as ye Sinners shall know so well come the Final Day! Praise His Design, and Retribution for M... Our Martyrdom! Reckoning shall Arrive!"  
"YAAAYY!" The group began to pump their right arms into the air rhythmically, with the left counterparts at each other's shoulders, as they were joyfully led away in a seamless procession. ? "To Final Day We go... to Final Day We go... Yay, yay, a merry-o, to Final Day We go..." ?

One of the members handed Ryuu an information booklet on the way out... "Revolutionary new medical breakthrough. How to cure trauma through torture. Why feeling despair is far worse than causing it." He took a final swig of beer and stood up from the subway platform bench. Too bad that it wouldn't induce short-term amnesia. The way he understood it, the original version of their faith didn't even include damnation. It was attached much later. Ah well, no time to rest. He had to help Taikio chase off that giant lizard which kept attacking the city before it reached the borders. It really should have learned not to mess with them by now, but "just being a simple beast, irresponsible for its actions" was the reason for Taikio being unwilling to let him simply kill it in the first place.  
"ESP Ho! Let's do some damage baby! Rip out the heart of that n00b sucker!"  
"Shut up Hayato."

ooo000ooo

Ranma was walking on a trail alongside the shore of a small round lake, observing the vista to his left. It was a fresh Sunday morning. Saturated, humid air condensing into vapour over the water, as the surrounding larch trees glistening with dewdrops in the early sunlight. To his right he was accompanied by what appeared to be a neat and relatively tall young blonde businesswoman with trimmed level hair. A matching elegant carmine skirt-suit and jacket, white shirt underneath, brown leather trench coat, and thin straight sunglasses with golden frames. He'd been told they were all "carefully selected from the Christian Dior collection", but had no eye for such things. His wardrobe mostly consisted of red Chinese sweatshirts, accompanied by loose black sweatpants, and he didn't get why she hadn't used more casual wear for a voyage in a canoe, even if he did the paddling. Although she didn't exactly have to worry about cloth stains. She currently seemed extremely preoccupied with chewing on a takoyaki-stick and pointedly observing the surrounding forest.

He wasn't exactly informed, but didn't think this was quite the way dating was supposed to be done. After some prodding, Nabiki had agreed to behave "conventionally", but still awaited him under wildly divergent ethnicity, clothing, and outward characteristics. She seemed to think it was all fun and games, without caring that she stuck out in an almost homogeneous unassuming crowd of Japanese. Sure, this was not conspicuous at all. No worries! Moreover, going by his admittedly limited experience with women, when they pointed at an advertisement poster for lingerie, movies, or music, and said, "Do you like that girl?" they really meant, "Answer no or you're dead!" Not "Oh goody, I sure hope so!" and look like an improved edition at first opportunity. This was all very perplexing.

At least they had mostly managed to avoid any serious incidents except for that *shudder* Shampoo debacle. Well, there were those teenaged deformed ninja kappa that just collapsed when the water on their heads fell off. Launching simultaneous vertical flying kicks had not been a good idea. And Tojo, the Hirohito-quoting kamikaze T-Rex, wearing a white headband imprinted with the red Japanese sun crest, and trying to "reinstate the glory of the empire"... by smashing several McDonald's junk food joints... Those T-Rex lunatics seemed quite common of late. Maybe there was a breeding farm somewhere? Nabiki had turned into a near-copy and convinced it that the best way to "honour the legacy of the emperor" was to "keep vigilance at the eastern border" to make it go away, or more specifically, swim to Shikoku and look at the sea all day. Or those weird martial artists… or whatever they were, that kept attacking him with giant origami... don't ask, though they turned tail when it started to rain; and the small pool monster that wanted him to have brunch with tea underwater... Nabiki gave it a "friend" long enough to ditch the place. She was pretty handy to have around, even if it turned a bit slow when he didn't get to hit anything... and no, those genetically modified "Vegetable Liberation Front" killer-tomatoes didn't count. "Ketchup Liberation Front" was more like it after a steamroller ran them over. The dumbest one yet had been a little bipolar lava monster that was depressed because it couldn't find anywhere to build a snowman, and cried tears of flame... in the middle of a major intersection. Presto, and a giant albatross carried it towards the top of Mount Asahi in Hokkaido, keeping it aloft with thick iron wires, but that was just business as usual.

Mostly they were either clubbing, having dinner, going to the movies, concerts, brief cruises with anything from personally manufactured yachts and sailing ships, to rowboat jaunts like the one they just finished, or sports competitions... even if he thought all of those guys sucked, and that he could do much better. Nabiki had simply stated, "Yes you could, so why don't you?" one day. He had no good answer to that, but guessed that it simply "wasn't him" to start doing baseball, or football and stuff, and it felt like he violated some unspoken rule about the kind of people that were supposed to enter. He was a professional martial virtuoso who lived for his art, and that was that. But she wouldn't let the matter go, insisting that he should dump his ambitions to immerse himself in his "hobby" and simply deal full-time with becoming some big-ass action movie superstar, and showman entertainer. She talked about "reinventing himself" and "listing his assets" to "view him in a pattern as a marketable product", but... wouldn't that make him into something or somebody else? Like he wasn't himself anymore and just went through the motions or something? Wasn't he supposed to be a kick-ass gung-ho adventurer, who would become the master of a new school of fighting, and protect the defenceless from monsters and stuff? It was what he enjoyed doing.

Still, he supposed Nabiki had a point that some performances might help the school. She had pestered him enough about "compensating for all her generous expenses" to make him take part in some "Fighting in the streets" contest, which didn't make much sense to him. Didn't they all usually fight on the streets? Why was it necessary to spell it out? Anyway, the fighters had only been a tiny bit above normal human level with a few chi tricks that generally just made a bit more damage than their regular kicks, though some of their combos tickled a little, if he allowed them to connect. He finally got fed up and challenged all of them together in a gang-up battle. It was over in less than 20 seconds. Boooring! Though it gave him some good money, which was kind of nice. He had never had any before, but apparently Nabiki had made him sign a legally binding contract giving her 95% of the earnings "since that was the standard fee for a good agent". He vaguely recalled that it might have been the other way around, but tried to enlist in a "Virtual fight" counterpart while deciding to be more careful next time. It had a name that made even less sense, the fighting was real as far as he was concerned, but found out that he was banned "due to unfair cheating". Bull. Then he tried with "Furious fatalities", still no go. "Living or dead", which didn't even have any ghouls or zombies! And they mostly wanted to play volleyball, but that kind of combination was pretty common by his standards. "Token", finally a designation that did make sense with all these mostly identical fighting-circuits. He even had a hard time keeping track of their names. It seemed like his reputation preceded him for all of them. Wimps and cheapskates! Some guy with odd taste for fingerless glowes had mentioned another really high-stakes one that supposedly had a minor storm deity participating. Now that sounded interesting, but he couldn't find it and apparently there were no price money involved, but that wasn't so important.

Phff! That's the problem with being too damn good: You end up with almost nobody in your own class. He was beginning to miss Ryoga, even Happosai to some degree, which was a sure-fire bad sign. He needed a real challenge, and not even Genma was around to spar with. Ryuu had suddenly been "too busy" to bother with him the few times he managed to get in touch, and Mousse was working extra hours as the Nekohanten grew more popular, or at least that was the excuse he cared to offer. It wasn't like he used to be particularly helpful. Cologne might... no, very, very bad idea to get her involved in this mess.

Nabiki glanced at the mist to her left. She had to admit that it was a nice morning, with all the required Bambi elements except the snugly animals. It was just a shame that such an obstinate, infuriating blotch was spoiling her view. She had tried to work with him, fooled around, partied, acted harmless, tried to win pity-points with sincere weepy deer eyes, inane sob-stories, faked outbursts and snivelling episodes, stroked his ego, been seductively ingratiating, given a mental nudge here, a verbal insinuation there. Attempted to find some emotional resonance or leverage she could evoke to make him see things her way, or install subliminal commands during moments of intimacy, but it was like trying to budge a mountain, generally enjoyable yes, but ultimately fruitless. He had conscious control of his entire metabolism, and had adapted his defences. She already had him in an unbreakable leash, but couldn't condition him to do any tricks!

To earn some goodwill she even, very reluctantly, agreed to let a part of herself handle all the housework, to "not cause Akane any more trouble", despite that she experienced a very palpable itch from the double's consistent exasperation. All to no avail, except for those stupid tournaments, but that didn't work out.

She wanted The Big Time and she wanted it now! To indulge in every lavish whim she could come up with. To be so huge that she could openly sell "buy an Uzi, get free crack and cigarettes" packets to third world child militias; finance perfume testing in the eyes of millions of baby seals; personally host an upbeat live-feed suicide watch show; turn dolphin-hunt cruises into an international tourist attraction; deify herself as an infallible Messiah in the minds of any still available damaged, insane, vulnerable, needy, or impressionable global scam dupes; perhaps even fund and advocate assorted associations of absolutist hate-monger groupies, just to shake up the status quo; and be universally beloved and supported for all of it. Worshipped and emulated for every monumental Fuck! YOU! she deigned to heap upon the wretches. Not that she currently found any of these things either profitable, diverting, or remotely worth the risks involved, but that wasn't the point! She was the diva and the world should be her bitch. It was the natural order of things. If not even the world is fair, then why should she be obliged to be? Why couldn't she make him grow up and understand that? More to the point, why couldn't she understand that? It seemed a bit hackneyed and tired of late. Perhaps her "squeamish times of the day" had worn her down from fighting them down all the time? And to think that most girls only had to deal with periods! She gave it some serious consideration. No, that wasn't it.

Well, never mind if her layabout "partner" didn't want to apply himself, or if she couldn't force herself to push significantly beyond the boundaries of society, strictly set up to herd the sheep into patterns. She was still better off than she used to. She currently had all her days free, while assigning simulacrums to respectively each study one of her subjects, and integrated the knowledge when she reassembled. She had also set up a small "agency", with an ad listing "Models, stuntwomen, teenage idols, and actresses for hire! Specialising in finding whatever look you want to market!" to get some fuck-you level money for several elite educations. While she had not received any offers yet, she was sure that one hit was all she needed for word-of-mouth to propel her like a rocket. Ranma had taken exception to "cheating" to "steal jobs from honest people". She disputed the claim by rationalising that there was nothing remotely "honest" about the music, movie or modelling industry, and that digital idols, actresses and music were already commonplace. This was simply the natural progression of absolute superficiality. He had no argument to counter that, and, thankfully, neither had Nabiki herself.

She was also considering setting up some magic shows or other entertainment events, including those ever-popular TV robot battles, but couldn't think of how to get away without technical inspection. Staging an ongoing all-female "Real-Life Celebrity Death Match, while Mud-Wrestling!" combo would probably be an instant worldwide hit, and might be worth the precarious spotlight, but she didn't even want to contemplate the legal issues. She would very much prefer if she could simply market Ranma as some international attraction, and initially stage bouts with several personally crafted "opponents". It would be more straightforward, at least for the time being. As soon as she was out of danger from exposure, she'd simply come clear and set up a one-woman special effects studio. When Ranma, with severe coaching from herself, managed to barely graduate, she'd drag him abroad, away from his demented but entertaining little friends, and good riddance. Let him set up his stupid dojo somewhere else to keep him docile, and methodically market it whether he wanted or not. The world would soon turn into an oyster of options and opportunities to effortlessly play around with. No major decisions necessary. Just do all of it! Fun, games, and prestige, extravagant decadent luxury, great sex, no stress, no aging, and no bother! It was like a big weight had been unburdened from her shoulders. She lightened up. (Yes, that makes sense! I haven't lost to that "inner bodhisattva". So what if I can't quite do whatever the heck I want? I don't need to!)

"I've told you to leave me alone!"  
Nabiki deftly stepped aside, and routinely composedly shielded herself with a sizeable umbrella, as a seemingly panicked Ryoga suddenly careened past at full throttle, unconsciously mowed down any trees in his path, and covered Ranma in the resulting dust-cloud.  
The awkward wanderer was matched pace by pace by a statuesque floating woman, gracefully hovering in a motionless upright stance, arms crossed under exquisite sweeping white ceremonial robes, with serenely closed eyes, rose-tinted chalky hair, fashioned into a bun affixed by dual pins, and loose sapphire braids flowing freely on the sides.  
Ryoga promptly ran straight through a... formerly, thick stone palisade about 500 metres away, which separated the lake from a neighbouring mansion, and disappeared out of sight. The entire incident only lasted a few scant seconds.

Nabiki carefully raised a meticulously pruned eyebrow, an impeccable movement she took pride in, as very few had the poise and flair to carry it off. "Well, that was odd."  
Ranma had mostly brushed away the assorted debris, and idly wondered how she always managed to do that even when he was caught napping, but shrugged it off to avoid the self-evident sardonic reply. ("Tendo Nabiki does not get dirty.") He held a hand over his eyes to block out the sun, vainly trying to catch Ryoga reappearing somewhere. "It seemed pretty normal to me, but that lady looked awfully familiar."

ooo000ooo

Konatsu was confused. He had followed Kuno-sama's instructions to the letter. He had shortened his hair, even though his scalp had turned uncomfortably chilly (though it was less cumbersome for fighting); Begun to use the kendo outfits and servant uniforms his new benefactor had brought him to look stylish or befitting his station (which was awfully nice of him since Konatsu had previously possessed only his one kunoichi outfit, waitress kimono, and the festive carnival uniform Akane-sama had given him); Glued strands of hair to his chest to look manly, walked in a bolder upright manner, stopped using lipstick, and so on, but it curiously wasn't as successful as they hoped. Ukyo-sama took more notice of him but not in a particularly adoring manner. She mostly yelled at him as usual.

Kuno-sama was very wise. He had told Konatsu that outward manliness was merely the first step, and one must ascertain it in behaviour as well. Thus, he had first tried being valiant and chivalrous to protect innocent ladies from harm, but Ukyo-sama just whacked him on the head when he carried her in his arms to leap over dangerously trafficked streets. He had begun keeping surveillance against potential threats, but she threw mini-spatulas at him when he clung to the roof above her head. When he started to let her win during sparring-sessions she just got mad, and complained that she couldn't learn anything that way. He supposed that she had a point, and let go of that aspect. Even somebody as experienced as Kuno-sama might be very occasionally mistaken.

The third step was to show one's amorous intentions.  
"Thousand eyes of the ebon mist!" He had taken photographs: "I'm working here!"  
"Florid verse of summer birdcalls!" Recited poetry: "I'm in the shower! Leave me alone!"  
"Tender voyage of crimson leaves!" Invited her to dates: "With what money? You don't have any."  
"True declaration manifest!" Exchanged diaries where he had written, "I love Ukyo" from corner to corner: "Stop embarrassing me!" Whack! Whack! Whack!  
"Eight fists of virtue!" Shown off with his 4-body-split ninjutsu technique: "Hmm. That's pretty useful." At least he made Ukyo-sama happy by doing many chores at once, and now he earned a whopping 20Yen an hour.

Although Konatsu still had faith. Kuno-sama had said that it was all about persistence, so women would be given time to eventually come out of their inherent shyness. He was fiercely determined to succeed.

Lately she had told him to discreetly follow Ranma-sama, while leaving a spare body behind to train and help her with the restaurant. She didn't have time herself, but wanted information of anything unusual. It wasn't particularly nice to spy on people, but Konatsu was sure she wouldn't ask him if it weren't completely harmless. Maybe she wanted to find a lost friend or something like that? He was sure Ranma-sama would understand, but the latter was very hard to keep track of, even for a supposedly genius kunoichi. Dividing the task in 3 sure helped for that. The few times he succeeded, Konatsu caught something unusual about the aura of some people Ranma-sama encountered, although they didn't seem to do anything strange, so he probably shouldn't encumber Ukyo-sama unless it was necessary.

Everyone was so nice to him around here. He had been given a lunch packet with five whole crisp breads, 2 apples, and a full thermos of water. Ukyo-sama was incarnated perfection, wisdom and grace, a goddess who had given her blessing to a poor wretch like him. He was so happy to be of help to her.

Konatsu woke up from his musings as he noticed a crowd of pigeons circling around his backpack. "That's my food! Give that back!" Oh no, just three breads left now, and Ukyo-sama herself had bought them for him. She would have been so disappointed. He quickly ate them all to be on the safe side.

ooo000ooo

A Japanese crane softly descended towards a sizeable secluded clearing, a peculiar spot of absolute desolation in an area of thriving plantation vegetation and open meadows. Seemingly unbothered by its absence from the wetlands of Kushiro, it effected a smooth landing, faded from view, and a small ginger vixen silently made its way outward, keeping close to the edge of the forest, while attentively inspecting the conjoining pastures in back of concealing bamboo bushes. (I'm going to save a killing on travel fares.)

Nabiki had never been one to let her curiosity go dissatisfied, even if Ranma wouldn't accompany her. "Ryoga will rip my head off if he finds out I'm cheating on Akane" as he so succinctly put it.  
Akari's pig-farm had several unusual qualities, not the least of which being that she didn't sell bacon. She bred the boars into giants and trained them to perform public sumo matches. Somehow, she also avoided being lynched for trampling all over her country's most sacrosanct unifying tradition and national sport. Perhaps it had to do with the girl herself? She was sickeningly sweet to the point that nobody could possibly suspect disruptive or malicious motivation. Her family had also been in the business for generations, which had allowed them to get established as earnest if eccentric. They must have done at least reasonably well to sustain such a large estate in the near vicinity of Tokyo, considering the capital's living space rates. Foolishly conservative too, given that they could have sold it off for a very substantial sum, and lived like kings instead of maintaining some fringe-level showbiz game. Unwavering loyalty towards lesser animals, what a concept...

As Nabiki sneaked closer to the homestead she was greeted by soft, flawless flute tones carried over the open pasture, accompanied by a voice like a daffodil, ever rising in an aria composed of interlocking vowels, as the singer imparted it with every ounce of ardour she could muster.  
Nabiki inquisitively raised her ears to full attention. Utilising her much improved hearing and intuitive triangulation to pinpoint the source, and crept as close to the vicinity as she dared, subtly adjusted to the hunting eyes of a falcon, and peered out towards the field, surveying it to locate the misplaced soprano.

A little more than a hundred metres away, there was a small grove of flourishing Sato Zakura trees. Amidst them, enclosed by a swirling spiral pattern of cherry blossoms, hovered the majestic apparition from yesterday, face fixed towards the heavens, leisurely performing a smooth air-ballet in seamless pace with the drifting flowers, and unfolded ornamented fans in the palms of her hands. A golden Chinese flute poised atop the left, held as an unreserved offer to the open skies and kept in fixed position even as airstreams played between the cavities, yielding crystal tones in harmonisation with every melodious beat of her voice.  
(I already hate this gal.) Nabiki narrowed her gaze from the rather stunning spectacle, and fixed on the visage of the regal woman for future reference. Half-lidded eyes evenly stared right back, boundless sapphire wells somehow evoking the image of a great dragon spanning the horizon, and coiled before a cowering rabbit. Nabiki shuddered as a chill went down her spine, but fear was quickly substituted by fury. (So you want dragons huh? Well, two can play that game. Be careful what you wish for!) She skimmed through a few concepts while building up her concentration. (Why must I feel unwarranted resentment towards those who have done me no harm? Oh, go back to sleep! …Well, whatever. It's not productive to get too hot-headed.)

"Who's there!?" Ryoga's hoarse baritone intonation  
A 4m diameter boulder landed with a loud thud just a few feet from her position. (Yipes!) The petite fox nervously jumped a few centimetres into the air in reaction to the impact.  
Stealth was apparently completely out of the question, so against her better judgement Nabiki discarded her camouflage and warily stepped out into the open, while waving her arms and shouting. "It's just me, Nabiki, Akane's sister!"  
Ryoga somehow managed to quickly make his way to meet her. He looked mortified, and profusely kow-towed towards the ground. "I'm really sorry! It really felt like a huge monster. I don't know what came over me."  
(All the common sense of a brick wall... how characteristic.) Despite what she had told Ranma, Nabiki actually tolerated Ryoga, which generally was as close as she came to appreciating anybody. He was properly deferential, assembled lots of tasty treats, pastries, local specialities and souvenirs from all over Japan, even the world one or two times, and regularly brought them as gifts to the Tendo home, without her having to exert herself in the slightest. Well, technically, they were intended for Akane, but Nabiki usually ended up eating the main share. In Ryoga's simplistic world-view "ordinary" girls could do no wrong per definition, and were occasionally awarded status as wholesome idols of perfection, to be relentlessly guarded from any real or imagined threat, and instantly forgiven any transgression... Well, he and Ukyo essentially loathed each other, but she wasn't "ordinary" by any stretch. His courtesy, naiveté, shyness, perpetual confusion, and transparent, heartfelt personality made him pretty risk-free, relaxing, and amusing to be around all in all, although Ranma might disagree on the first two points.

Ryoga's bandanna suddenly commenced to beep loudly. He hurriedly unfastened it, somehow wearing an identical copy underneath, and examined the inside. A thin rectangular black box was placed in the centre, with a bright digital screen. It displayed an arrow pointing backwards. Ryoga turned in a random direction, checked the contrivance for possible improvements, revolved again, once more, and continued until he was successful, then ran towards the middle of the field, until he swerved sideways instead, followed by further beeps. He inspected the instrument several more times, ventured a little closer to the grove, once more went off in an erroneous course, and persevered... The procedure was repeated three more times until he finally reached his destination.  
A seated Akari beamingly congratulated him, as a bouncing black-and-white dog excitedly tried to lick his wrist. "I'm so proud of you Ryo-chan! You made it on your own! And we didn't even need to use the GPS tracker to find you."  
Ryoga bashfully laughed with an arm held behind his head. "Aha-ha-ha-ha... That was nothing, aha-ha... I'm just glad to be back so soon."  
Nabiki had slowly made her way forward; incredulously observing the entire episode. For a moment, she pictured the bandanna in the form of a dog collar with Akari holding the leash. The unceasing aria continued unabated over their heads, with stray petals slowly descending, covering the earth below like a sparse rain. The dog began to frenziedly bark in her direction, but was calmed down when Ryoga soothingly rubbed its neck, and restrained itself to a muffled apprehensive growling.  
It seemed like they were performing a private, early summer, O-Hana-Mi ceremony, or an excuse to have a picnic, as she preferred to call it, even if it started out as Bushido death allegory. Three Bento boxes were placed on a wide brown sheet, one in front of Akari, a second beside the hollow space of an unfastened rock, both exclusively vegetarian with slots of half-eaten rice, mushrooms and vegetables, and a third containing leftover blood and gravy in every compartment... Ryoga was a hunter, but eating animals raw didn't seem at all his style, and Akari would have been horrified... Some half-grown puppies were slumbering in the shadow of a tree, beside a small cluster of snoozing gigantic boars... in customary sumo-wear hakama. Definitely not hog meat, that's for sure. A brush, palette and canvas were discarded on the ground. It was a surprisingly high-quality portrait of a contentedly smiling Akari, clad in a light blue dress with a white sunhat and immersed in brightest daylight, a vaguely idealised mirror of the girl sitting in front of the painting. (Well, well, hidden talents... although I seem to remember that he was good at calligraphy.)  
"But you really do have to control yourself. That is no way to treat a guest." Akari lightly chided.  
A shamefaced Ryoga anxiously let his eyes dart towards Nabiki. "Yeah, I know. I thought it was a monster."  
Nabiki thought she noticed a faint knowing chuckle from above.  
"Ryo-chan, don't insult her. Now apologise."  
"Ok." He turned around, now facing Nabiki, and presented her with a "small" 2-tonne rock that he picked from the ground. "My bad. Do you want to hit me so we're even?"

Nabiki took no notice of the offer. "So who's the flower girl?" It was a semi-redundant open question. She obviously had a few notions about the rather straightforward connection, but it might be prudent to feign ignorance for the moment.  
Akari answered. "Oh that's Ryo-chan's friend from China."  
"She's a pest and babysitter, is what she is." Ryoga muttered.  
"Now, now Ryo-chan." Akari patted his hand.  
(Did her eyes flicker when she said, "friend"?) "And she's named what? Brassiere? Mascara? Curry?"  
Akari's face blanked in confusion. "No, that's Hao Li."  
"Holly? That's new."  
Akari didn't bother to correct the deliberate mispronunciation. "Yes. She is very... determined." She gave Ryoga a gentle look of mild disapproval.  
It might as well have been a 1000-tonne bludgeon. Ryoga's entire posture shrank, and he looked down in wretched misery. "M'sorry" The statement a barely audible whisper.  
Akari kindly patted his head. "It's ok Ryo-chan, it is not your fault."  
Ryoga seemed slightly uncomfortable from the sign of affection, but bestowed her the look of a drowning man handed a lifeline by Amaterasu herself. Absolute devotion and gratitude signified in his every feature.  
(Yup, whipped doesn't begin to describe this guy.) "So what is she singing about?"  
To her surprise Ryoga decided to reply. "Some opera about a guy going to battle, with his wife waiting at home while he's away for years."  
(Charming) "And it takes this long to sing about some forlorn woman lamenting her fate?"  
Ryoga gave her a look of utter disbelief, as if she was talking about an entirely different individual. "It's about the wife being proud when she hears about his victories."  
"It's about honour and duty." Akari chirped in. Once again she didn't seem to quite enjoy the taste of the words.  
(Oh-ho!) "Lots of gory details are there? Enemy heads on pikes and such?"  
Ryoga and Akari simultaneously closed their eyes and nodded in quiet resignation.  
Nabiki inwardly smirked. (She must have lapped up the ritual's "purity and innocence of the warrior path" symbolism.)

Holly had evidently deemed her hymn as completed and floated down to address Akari directly; hands once again crossed within her sleeves, giving no outward sign that she was aware of Nabiki's existence, and taking care to keep her feet above the ground. More interconnecting singsong tunes. Akari translated. "Hao Li says that she does not trust you, but that you are inconsequential."  
(Right back atcha, you obsolete cow!) "Why doesn't she speak Japanese?"  
"She believes that it's undignified to converse outside of the family in a language she has not fully mastered."  
"The family?"  
Akari looked self-conscious, like she had let go of something she had hoped to avoid. "Yes..."  
Hao Li interrupted again, in a tone accustomed to obedience. "Most honoured and powerful life-mate, come for daily therapy!" imparting Nabiki with a defiant look to disprove any claimed ignorance. She seized the neck of Ryoga's sweater between her right thumb and forefinger and brusquely hefted him into the air, as if he presented a burden no greater than the slightest feather.  
Ryoga responded by harshly grabbing Holly's wrist and slamming her with great force towards the ground, leaving her embedded in a 2m-radius half-globe crater.  
Nabiki blinked. "I thought Ryoga wouldn't hit most girls even if they were whacking him repeatedly with 10-ton hammers?"  
Akari seemed discomfited again. "She's a special case."

Indeed, Holly swiftly rose from the indentation, any stains of dirt detaching from her personage as if self-motivated. Her exalted decorum replaced with a radiance of unbridled exuberance. She threw herself at a decidedly uncomfortable Ryoga, clung around his shoulders, and rested her head against his neck, while rapidly unloading a stream of occasionally comprehensible tender prattle. "...So happy baby brother give so mighty groom... many children... great honour... make blood strong... " She suddenly restrained herself, glanced at Nabiki in annoyance for the unwanted intrusion, clasped Ryoga's waist and flew away.  
"You don't say?" Nabiki deadpanned. "But if she likes being treated that way, why does he indulge her?"  
Akari afforded Nabiki a slightly bemused, "You have understood more than I thought", look. "She won't leave, no matter what, and it's the only way to gain her respect. If he does not prove himself stronger every now and then she will walk all over him."  
(And you per extension, I suppose.) Nabiki inquisitively raised an eyebrow. "She adores the raging, self-reliant, warrior-nomad?"  
Akari sighed. "Yes, and I prefer the loyal, gentle, and chivalrous family man..."  
"A bit of a quandary?"  
Akari peeked in the direction of their disappeared companions and raised her previously entwined hands from her lap. "Quite so. Now cover your ears."  
Nabiki did as instructed and waited for a few moments. A thunderous detonation permeated the air and a shockwave caused the ground to tremble underneath their feet.  
Nabiki looked towards the noise. A globular spectrum of light, several hundred metres across was displayed in the distance, somewhere in the vicinity of her landing spot, with the neighbouring trees bending outwards from the pressure. (The Shishi Hokodan? No, too many colours, and it's pushing in every direction.) The earth resolutely persisted to quiver. "What is that thing?"  
"The reason for our troubles." Akari rose from her seated position. "I apologise for the inconvenience, but I really do have to see to Ryo-chan. He'll need to rest."  
Nabiki was assessing as swiftly as she could. "So his chi is fuelled by all his passions now, and he needs to discharge the build-up?"  
"You're a rather clever girl Nabiki. Give my best to your sisters." Akari wandered off.  
Nabiki waited until the pig-breeder had departed to a safe distance, and a brown eagle took flight in an opposite course, making a pirouette as it went. (Woohooo! I'll never grow tired of this!) The bird of prey took a wide bypass route around the enduringly energetic lightshow, and Nabiki was once more headed for Nerima.

She exploited the opportunity for contemplation during her journey. (I really should have probed a bit further. How did Mister no-direction-sense manage to reach me that fast? How come he and Akari suddenly understand some unusual Chinese dialect? Why precisely is exhausting his reserves therapy? How did that flying musical number latch on to him? And if she's old enough to regard Herb as a baby, why does she look just above my age anyway? Well... I can make a few educated guesses, and at least this explains the state of that glade. Now, how can I profit from this, and just how needy is Ryoga?) 

ooo000ooo

Coming up:  
Dudududedudu-dudududedudedudu... Sect-Busters! Ryuu picked the shortest straw, and has been "promoted" to irrational zealot-moderator. Being coached by the local titleholder for "most horrid hacker in history" doesn't make it better. Nabiki is goofing around, or looking for her future... in 20 different locations at once. Who said that making choices had to be difficult?

ooo000ooo 


	9. A Symphony of Maelstroms

ooo000ooo

"Extreme positions are not succeeded by moderate ones, but by contrary extreme positions."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all."

"With an evening coat and a white tie, anybody, even a stock broker, can gain a reputation for being civilized."

- Oscar Wilde

ooo000ooo

Another day. Another sect. This one wasn't genocidal, but even more annoying. Ryuu was on an infiltration mission with Hitomi. An infiltration mission, him? Give him a good kaiju monster or giant mecha to take down any day, but being forced to sit down and endure a diatribe from these lunatics? She said that the psi-ops had forecasted a roughly 75% probability for large quantities of illegal Jusenkyo water, and mind-altering substances. Somehow he was also the "best suited to help her with the case" whatever that was supposed to mean, especially given that he could come up with several first-rate substitutes. Couldn't they have found him a conflagration to vacuum-bomb or something instead? At least it was rather easy to fit in; all they had to do was to avoid washing that morning, and dress like they were colour-blind.

Two figures stood on a podium in front of the listeners, one man and one woman, in plain and unfashionable but virtually identical loose clothing, with uncombed hair and dilated eyes. Rather unattractive but alike enough to be brother and sister, a stack of loose pages placed before them, and fervently preaching in unison with the greatly over-emphasised, stirring tones of consummate demagogues. "Yea! For it was reveeealed unto us a great truth! Humanity is shackled and it must be liberated!"  
"It must be liberated!" A reiterating chorus from the audience, reading from identical leaflets  
"And hooww shall they be saved ye chosen apostles?"  
"Through rape and degradation!"  
"Aye, our brothers and sisters! For the scripture tells us that the prooud and the reepressed shall thus reach the light! They shall embraace their passions through this act of mercy!"  
"Mercy be the raper!" The listeners habitually droned on.  
"Yea! For we must spread the luuuv through the wisdom and privilege we have been given!"  
"We must spread the love!" Another unified mantra  
"And force them to face the truth!"  
"They must see the truth!"  
"We shall spread these hoolly gifts which make man aalike unto a woman, and a woman aalike unto a man!" They pointed at two sizeable transparent water-containers placed at the side of the podium.  
"We must spread the gifts!"  
"For even these exxxaalted beacons were lost as ye! We were once one, and commuune as one every night still!"  
"Hail the enlightened one!"  
Ryuu had never heard of masturbation taken to this level before.  
"For the llaambs shall inhale the spiice of passion and be freed by the downpour!"  
"They must be freed!"  
"Yea! For it has been written that a sacred orgy shall consume them!"  
"They shall fornicate in reverse!"  
"We shall erraase institutionalised delusions!"  
"Thus is the path to glory!"  
"They shall be raped and raped again until they are broken and grasp revelation!"  
"The world will be a paradise!"  
"This is justice!"  
"This is the word!"  
"They will feel goood and get stronger!"  
"We shall become a better people!"  
"No matter what post-traumatic or "scientific" research says!"  
"Lies and propaganda!"  
"For 'tis the work of bigoted illuminati!"  
"Down with bigotry!"  
"For we value gender studies! "Science" has nothing to do with it!"  
"Hail radical feminism!"  
"All hail the whip, the strap-on and the holy gimp!"  
"All hail! All hail! Amen!"

One of the spectators eagerly raised a hand. "How about enforced boundaries of age? I envision an era where we will walk between cybernetic shells, and narrow-minded hate-words like "obnoxious amoral, bondage-violation, bestiality, deformation, and mutilation fetishist paedophile" will be a thing of the past. Couldn't we do something about that?"  
"It is a most gripping point, our valued brother. We took this very same cartoon to heart, and shall henceforth meditate upon the ramifications. The Internet Taliban shall be cleansed. Go in faith and slake your thirst until the time of rapture."  
The orators concurrently motioned towards a sizeable section by the side of the stage. It was filled with a multitude of the extremely lifelike human-sized dolls that had taken the nation by storm in recent years. Multiple ages, genders, and deformities were all represented, along with attachable animal costumes, S&M gear, Gothic Lolita and alternative gaudy cosplay outfits, along with various exotic tools and equipment. A poster placed above the assembly read: [Molest them. Rape them. Torture them. Do whatever you like. It is not as if they will complain. Or if you rather prefer them to scream, cry, or beg, please ask a manager to activate the speakers.]

Ryuu looked sideways toward Hitomi with a very worn-down expression. This was the most weird-assed crackpot mixture of opposing extremes that he had ever encountered. Almost exclusively male visitors, apparently attempting to lessen personal shame for, or socially justify, publicly hidden, dirty little rape-orgy fantasies through fashioning a... peculiar variant of zealous "feminism"... whatever. "Can I just trash these guys?"  
"No. Arrest the leaders with minimal commotion. Identify the members. Dispose of the equipment before usage." Even the toughened unconventional psychic looked slightly exasperated.  
"Please? Just that guy with a "Furries for the people! Defile a shaggy cow-hybrid today! Moo!" sign, and a "Total lolicon player!" T-shirt?  
"Sorry, and I do mean that."  
Ryuu wanted off this case, bad. It simultaneously bored and irritated the heck out of him. He had heard that there was a high likelihood that the local Yakuza had hired an unusual foreign enforcer. That might bring some solid entertainment.  
Hitomi noticed his discomfort. "You can go. This is strictly for temperance training. They should fall unconscious in half an hour. Low-level contact poison at the sheets."

"Oy never got why we go after the rapists? Maybe the ones who go really out of hand, and make society flow less smoothly, but who really cares right? It's just a matter of attitude to shrug it off or wallow in self-pity. Come on. Oy mean, loads of bullies serial-mind-rape people far worse than just a quickie. Should we go after them too? The "victims" could have opted to fight back or died in the attempt, so if they don't actually do something and give up they deserve it. Ooyy don't care! That's so gay. It's their choice so take the consequences you know? Oy'd like to sodomise and cut up all the little emos myself until they stop whining, and the Universe hates them anyway, or it wouldn't have made them that lame. We can't stop people dead-set to commit suicide, and don't have the right to interfere in how they run their lives, so it's the same thing here. "Kill them, kill them all" is just so untrendy outdated twentieth century conservative, and everyone should be given a freedom of choice to do whatever they want or it's a fascist tyranny. Besides, a sadist is just a masochist who follows the golden rule, so no one's got the leverage to blame me. Am Oy right, or am Oy right?"  
"You're a seriously twisted bastard, Hayato."

ooo000ooo

A casually dressed overweight man was lying facedown on a mahogany desk. He was squirming, but was firmly held in place, arms behind his back, and a gag over his mouth. Taro broke one of the man's fingers. "This little piggy went to the market."  
The latter attempted to scream.  
Taro broke another. "This little piggy started a business."  
Further muzzled wailing.  
And another. "This little piggy developed a corporation, buying, shipping and selling raw materials all over the world."  
The man was crying. Base and disgusting. Taro had nothing but contempt for the weak. He would enjoy the rest of this.  
Another "This little piggy turned conceited."  
Another "This little piggy tried to buy out his competition."  
Another "This little piggy overextended himself."  
Another "This little piggy went into debt."  
Another "This little piggy loaned some money."  
Another "This little piggy found out about his sponsors."  
Another "This little piggy couldn't pay the rate."  
"Well, what do you know? We're all out of fingers." Taro cheerfully crushed one of the target's hands. "This little piggy didn't accept the Oyabun's generous offer."  
He repeated the act. "This little piggy said that he wouldn't hand over his lifework to a criminal, much less for 10 Yen."  
Taro broke one of the industrialist's lower arms. "This little piggy correctly assumed that it would turn into a dirty business."  
Yet another display of synchronised violence. "This little piggy didn't want his name to be darkened for generations, or his employees to be implicated and jeopardised."  
An upper arm "This little piggy found out that all of his security measures mean nothing."  
The other. "This little piggy was assaulted in his office at the top of a 300-metre high building."  
A foot. "This little piggy has a family."  
Another. "This little piggy loves them very much."  
A lower leg "This little piggy might see them raped and tortured before his eyes."  
Another "This little piggy might be force-fed their innards, and have to lick the Oyabun's balls. Then go en flambé scorched crispy bacon, and spend the rest of his life in a hospital ward."  
A thigh "The little piggy has a chance."  
The remaining one "If the little piggy signs it all over tomorrow, through his lawyers, since the piggy will be in a full body-cast."

Gilgamesh Taro fastened his IPod, activated his choice catchy personal theme music to put himself in the mood, walked to the windowsill, put his feet against it and launched himself into the air; his arms stretched to the sides. Tokyo's baddest up-and-coming enforcer enjoyed a few seconds of glorious freefall, took out a hip flash from a pocket and poured the contents over his head. Any passer-by would be treated to the unusual sight of an over 4-metres tall 2-ton misshapen behemoth with trendy earpieces, gutturally humming along as it took flight to notify its boss about a task well done. (Damn, but I have a sweet-ass job.)

ooo000ooo

(01) Nabiki was in school...  
(02) Slept over...  
(03) Called around from a booth-like "office"...  
(04) Took a glorious morning flight...  
(05) Broke some dishes...  
(06) Went shopping...  
(07) Studied at home...  
(08) Read at the library...  
(09) Wrote a paper at another...  
(10) Browsed through travel and entertainment agencies...  
(11) Prepared Ranma's tutoring...  
(12) Scrutinised a recording of his female form...  
(13) Watched a movie at a theatre...  
(14) Gorged herself on junk food...  
(15) Read fresh magazines about current or emerging local trends...  
(16) Hung around a high-class club, and flirted with the clientele...  
(17) Hung around a high-class club, and flirted with the clientele...  
(18) Hung around a high-class club, and flirted with the clientele...  
(19) Hung around a high-class club, and flirted with the clientele...  
(20) Hung around a high-class club, and flirted with the clientele...  
(21) Hung around a high-class club, and flirted with the clientele...  
(22) Studied English...  
(23) Studied French...  
(24) Studied German...  
(25) Studied Chinese...  
(26) Studied Spanish...  
(27) Studied Korean...

(01) The teacher droned on...  
(02) The schedule pad buzzed...  
(03) Still nobody interested in hiring models...  
(04) She plunged down towards the open sea...  
(05) Vacuumed the floor. Burned the dinner...  
(06) She browsed through the assortments...  
(07) Math, the non-practical kind...  
(08) Droning research...  
(09) Some chemistry...  
(10) Checked for interesting destinations and activities...  
(11) Skimmed through his various assignments...  
(12) Noted down its manner of speech, movement, characteristics...  
(13) Some parody of d-level zombie splatter action...  
(14) Gorged herself on deserts...  
(15) Read fresh popular science magazines about progressing research...  
(16) Attaining considerable interest...  
(17) Attaining considerable interest...  
(18) Attaining considerable interest...  
(19) Attaining considerable interest...  
(20) Attaining considerable interest...  
(21) Attaining considerable interest...  
(22) Listened to audio lessons and reiterated vocabulary...  
(23) Listened to audio lessons and reiterated vocabulary...  
(24) Listened to audio lessons and reiterated vocabulary...  
(25) Listened to audio lessons and reiterated vocabulary...  
(26) Listened to audio lessons and reiterated vocabulary...  
(27) Listened to audio lessons and reiterated vocabulary...

(01) Dull, incompetent, petty tyrant was more like it...  
(02) She wanted to sleep another hour...  
(03) She mailed various agents with an assortment of photographs...  
(04) Slowed down the descent, and dove in...  
(05) Ordered take-out instead. She couldn't stand this monotony. How did Kasumi avoid going bonkers?  
(06) Only the brand names, finest cloth, style, and jewellery for every occasion...  
(07) Or at least not directly useful for the moment...  
(08) Mostly checking databases from her laptop. Tokyo had a great mobile Internet network...  
(09) Kind of diverting in practice...  
(10) Considered which Ranma might enjoy, and how to reach them in minimal time...  
(11) Repeated the related sections in last year's prescribed books, and took notes...  
(12) Mentally listed tactics to avoid hot water and awkward questions or encounters...  
(13) Hilarious if you knew the genre...  
(14) Gorged herself on sweets...  
(15) Read fresh magazines about investments and development...  
(16) Along with her exotic "friends" "Chouko", "Hanako", "Miyako'", "Natsuko" and "Yoshiko"...  
(17) Along with her exotic "friends" "Aiko", "Hanako", "Miyako", "Natsuko" and "Yoshiko"...  
(18) Along with her exotic "friends" "Aiko", "Chouko", "Miyako", "Natsuko" and "Yoshiko"...  
(19) Along with her exotic "friends" "Aiko", "Chouko", "Hanako", "Natsuko" and "Yoshiko"...  
(20) Along with her exotic "friends" "Aiko", "Chouko", "Hanako", "Miyako" and "Yoshiko"...  
(21) Along with her exotic "friends" "Aiko", "Chouko", "Hanako", "Miyako" and "Natsuko"...  
(22) Read books, and wrote nonsensical essays...  
(23) Read books, and wrote nonsensical essays...  
(24) Read books, and wrote nonsensical essays...  
(25) Read books, and wrote nonsensical essays...  
(26) Read books, and wrote nonsensical essays...  
(27) Read books, and wrote nonsensical essays...

(01) But she had to endure to keep up appearances...  
(02) She shut down the alarm and dozed off again...  
(03) Just a matter of time now, especially with other hooks out...  
(04) A dolphin excitedly swam and leapt over the waves, in utter bliss both below and above the surface...  
(05) She deftly emptied and put back the delivery guy's wallet, and allowed some marginal respect, blended with acute contempt, for unburdening herself for so long...  
(06) Memorising them all to replicate for free at first opportunity...  
(07) But the Japanese school-system usually saw fit to provide thorough illustrations in that regard...  
(08) But she occasionally used the books, and it was suspect with too many "friends" within the house...  
(09) Scrutinising afterwards? Not so much...  
(10) Coordinated with his schedule to fully exploit the available intervals…  
(11) Considered strategies and "incitements" to make him interested...  
(12) Preparing for necessary fill-ins during excursions. She could always use a displacement pocket to catch up on studies...  
(13) Just gross or absurd otherwise...  
(14) She really loved never having to worry about getting fat again…  
(15) Read fresh magazines about global social shifts...  
(16) It was easier to avoid questions during idol try-outs, if your contacts wanted to score...  
(17) It was easier to avoid questions during idol try-outs, if your contacts wanted to score...  
(18) It was easier to avoid questions during idol try-outs, if your contacts wanted to score...  
(19) It was easier to avoid questions during idol try-outs, if your contacts wanted to score...  
(20) It was easier to avoid questions during idol try-outs, if your contacts wanted to score...  
(21) It was easier to avoid questions during idol try-outs, if your contacts wanted to score...  
(22) It didn't hurt to be prepared...  
(23) It didn't hurt to be prepared...  
(24) It didn't hurt to be prepared...  
(25) It didn't hurt to be prepared...  
(26) It didn't hurt to be prepared...  
(27) It didn't hurt to be prepared...

Ranma observed Nabiki walking home her usual route from school. He triple-checked that nobody else was around from various concealing wall and rooftop positions, without giving off a hint of presence, and soundlessly dropped down in front of her. The Umisen-ken was very handy when it came to stealth. "So how was your day?" He tried to sound flippant, but couldn't quite succeed.  
Nabiki imparted a congenial smile of pokerfaced indifference. "Oh, you know, the usual."

Jusenkyo was supposedly either cursed or blessed by ancient Chinese deities, depending on what they actually had in mind, but she was pretty sure that it wasn't something remotely like this.

"Actually I just got a few of them smashed during an office party, and mentioned that it might be a fun gag. It's not my fault that they took it seriously." Urd had just returned from a few weeks of vacation with her sisters and their bright and likeable, if rather hapless, housemate. She'd have to skim the records to catch up on anything juicy that she may have missed.

ooo000ooo

Konatsu stood on the roof of the Ucchan's with his currently rather grumpy boss seeing him off. He put a hand to his chest, with the other strikingly pointed towards the sky. "I boldly go to keep surveillance!"  
Ukyo made a dismissive wave of her hand. "Oh, be quiet."  
Konatsu leapt off. He had switched his recent kendo uniforms for a very... unusual "ninja" garb. It was a gift from Kuno-sama right before he left after the training yesterday.  
Ukyo shook her head. (What has that silly lunatic done to you?) That pilgrimage might be worth the lost revenues after all. Natsu-chan was far too impressionable for his own good. It was almost touching that he tried so hard to "be a man" for her, but he was turning downright insufferable.

The previous day:  
"Faithful Konatsu. The pursuer of excellence is bound for a cleansing voyage, and shalt soon depart on for shrines and contemplation beneath wintry cascades. The virtuous benefactor is regretful that he hath not further lent his services to a most trustworthy and respectful vassal."  
Kuno picked out a colourful set of clothes from his sport bag. "He shalt impart a final bequest unto his most attentive disciple. Thou art henceforth graduated and shalt be knighted in befitting garb."

Konatsu was dressed in a cobalt gi with bare arms, opened chest, the sign "shi" for "death" covering his back, a crimson scarf around his neck, a white bandanna with a red sun-crest forehead-shield, displaying a black lightning-bolt in the centre. Cat-claw iron knuckles, a necklace threaded with hefty auburn iron-spheres, spiked shoulder-pads, two ebony katana strapped to his back, and a thin "surgical" mask displaying a drawing of fearsome shark teeth, and a t-shirt with the text "Muy Macho" underneath it all. Konatsu felt very awkward in the get-up, but somehow managed to avoid looking particularly intimidating.

Kuno rubbed his chin, and indicated approval. "Aye, 'tis the proper fashion for yon manly über-ninja."  
He pointed towards a building outside of the estate. "Revelations were glimpsed within eposes from yonder fine institution corner-cinema that hath well served the Kuno forefathers."  
He solemnly grasped Konatsu's shoulders, taking care to avoid the pointy areas. "Thou art now daunting refinement only second to the sword of glory himself. Henceforth thine intended shalt surely swoon before thy feet. The pursuer of cleansing is most surely soothed before his departure."  
Konatsu kow-towed in appreciation. The outfit wasn't particularly suited for stealth, but he had managed fine while carrying far worse impediments, so it wouldn't be a big problem.  
Kuno followed Konatsu to the gate. "Thy liege bids thee farewell. Be certain at all times to proclaim thy glorious intents of action, and heroism shalt surely follow."  
The former kunoichi nodded. He had some experience with that sort of thing.

Back to where we left:Konatsu bounded between the rooftops. He was making minor progress with investigating those odd kirilian formations that turned up every now and then. He had learned to recognise them by sight by now, and since they qualified as out of the ordinary, had informed Ukyo-sama. She told him to shift his focus briefly if he encountered them again. They made very odd "chakra tracks", for lack of a better term, which he had noticed seemed vaguely reminiscent of his own when looking towards a duplicate on the roof across the street. He was instructed to follow these to see if he found a pattern, then bring along and show Ukyo-sama when he was done. She kept improving through her access to a very suitable... Konatsu was not at all comfortable using the term in relation to Ukyo-sama... instructor, and she always had strong awareness of hostile intent. He thought that she had developed her perceptions enough if she actively focused. Given enough time, she might even develop jutsu of her own.

ooo000ooo

What appeared to be an immaculately dressed businessman of Asian and vaguely Western features addressed his audience from the scene of an auditorium, while seated at the right end of a lavish couch by a chic petite brunch table, gracefully decked with herbal tea and an assortment of biscuits. One of his legs was comfortably crossed over the other, and each fingertip patiently rested against the corresponding number. His face, posture, and entire mannerism radiated a flawlessly gauged balance of debonair charm, paternal benevolence, self-effacing candour, and inoffensive blamelessness.

His listeners all wore similar brand-level expensive suits. Ryuu made a guess of a classic Hong Kong upper class, predominantly with cultured but modernised British imperialist pedigree. Very odd, although largely irrelevant, Ryuu was a steaming surge of pressure, compiled and compressed by all of these crap assignments.

"...For the world is born of chaos, and shall return to chaos as entropy consumes it. We will simply hasten and usher in the final end stages of the Kali Yuga... but in a civilised fashion. We are modern people after all, not Thugee barbarians." A murmur of disapproving resentment rose from the audience.  
"Gentlemen, please! We must be able to speak openly about the poor misguided and fear-shackled factions that oppose us. Now, we have invited the eminent, and quite brilliant, mad evil scientist Otto Schneider to join us here today. He is a true connoisseur of related ventures. No longer shall we be limited to emptying bottles of nicotine sulphate and hydrocyanic acid into water reservoirs, or to infiltrating nuclear silos!" A smattering of polite applause followed.  
An outwardly congenial and harmless little man, with balding brown hair and white sideburns, entered the stage, and sat down at the unoccupied left side of the sofa reserved for invited guests. "I prefer the term eccentric amoral scientist." Otto remarked.  
"Quite right, quite right, my apologies, please continue." The fashionable presenter smoothed over the gaffe.  
"No, no. Don't worry. It's an easy enough oversight, and as you have graciously apologised... Now, I understand that I could not quite attract you to the subspace-expansion, continental plate-rupturing package? It's a limited time 50%-off retail value..."  
The host wistfully shook his head. "I'm afraid no, a bit too strong crass Hollywood disaster-blockbuster undertones, but I sincerely hope this won't risk souring such a mutually beneficial partnership?"  
"Absolutely not! Just an old entrepreneur trying to promote himself where he can."  
Otto rose from his seat, and went to a previously prepared laptop, whereupon a projector showed an overhead. "Now dear sirs, here are the schematics for, if I may be bold enough to say so myself, a highly efficient quantum bomb, empowered through two variants of self-generating nanobots. One type programmed for building copies of the invention in question, gradually and discreetly at various suitable locations after our preference, supplemented by another category reproducing regulated amounts of themselves and the others from available raw materials. It has quite the potential with proper backing." More applause.  
"Ah, now this truly does sound interesting. Am I to understand then that it would randomly mix and match buildings, locations and creatures from all over the planet?" The former speaker respectfully enquired.  
Otto thoughtfully grasped his chin. "Not in the current design no. It would more likely turn the infected areas to primordial gaseous state, but there is certainly a very striking elegance to your suggestion. I believe the design could be modified to incorporate tesseract qualities."  
The smarmy announcer charismatically beamed his teeth towards the listeners. There certainly is... Dear friends, if you will, envisage the Eiffel Tower, the Great pyramids, and the Statue of Liberty suddenly fused with the Tokyo Dome while entertaining a full audience. Truly a work of art." An appreciative murmur emanated from the clique.  
Otto nodded. "True, true. As always, one must make an impression on the world where one can."  
"You are truly a high-minded philosopher to adapt new visions so fluently."  
"Ach! You are making an old man blush. Flexibility has always been part of my niche. Now, perhaps you'd like to receive the Swiss bank account number for a modest little Isle of Man shell-company, or select another location of principled confidentiality? One cannot make doomsday on an empty stomach as I always say, ha-ha..."

"Raaaaaah!" Ryuu finally went ballistic. He ripped his suit in two, and promptly unleashed a low-yield pressure-barrage at everyone present, immediately rendering the entire assembly unconscious. He gasped for air. That felt good.

# "Everybody was down like tenpins... # Du-de-du-du-de-du-du-du-du... # Hmm-hmm-hmm, fast like liiightning..." #  
"How do you spot a boring lecture? The audience is having a slumber party! ...Hyu-hn-hff, that Kraut looks like he's eating the microphone... Classic. Oy totally have to build some Crouching Tiger, disco-ball slow-motion-style video sync on that sequence. Pure beauty, maybe some Swan Lake ballet music, and we should have a viral winner."  
"Shut up Hayato, and never ever sing again. What was the deal with a bunch of urbane snobs taking up the age of degeneration anyway?"  
"Make chocolate milk, but leave the cow, Oy suppose. Oy kind of dig 'em. Always make sure to be the victim, put the fun back in "fundamentalist", and all that shit. Gotta love marketers who could vend suicide-vests to pacifists."

ooo000ooo

Gilgamesh Taro sipped a drink, resting on his stomach in a sun chair by the Oyabun's exclusive personal swimming pool, placed at one of the latter's private residences on the top of a high office building. A bikini-clad beauty massaged his back, while another fed him fresh grapes. This was the life. Charitable of the boss to let his more valuable employees use it when he was situated elsewhere.  
A slim but sinewy man was seated to the left of him. He had dark, slicked, and parted hair, acute darting eyes, a remarkably eerie "smile", and a multitude of scars, upon closer inspection vaguely outlining peculiar patterns. The masseuses had avoided approaching him. "There exists a very specific, very generous order for my services." It was a probing statement of fact, not an actual question.  
"Depends." Asia's coolest, baddest, kick-ass motherfucker effortlessly maintained his pokerfaced composure. It wouldn't do to give a merchant leverage for haggling.  
The man miserably failed to look trustworthy and amiable. "Discretion and confidentiality have of course always been tenets for the sustained existence of my enterprise."  
This was true. The man may be a cockroach of sordid habits, but given his clientele, he would have been long dead if even rumoured to do otherwise, and his kind generally held the prudence of survival in the highest regard. Taro allowed an affirmative nod. "Any rough teasers?"  
"Let's say that my instruments have augured a very potent, rather specific flash in the neighbourhood of interest."  
Taro's pupils dilated to the slightest extent. "Do tell?"  
The man briefly wriggled his hands in eagerness, but noticed and assumed his regular skittish mannerism. "Quite a lot of nuggets. Yes quite a lot indeed."

ooo000ooo

"Do you want get rich? Exiled prince need transfer funds to flee country. Please send account information and we give 20 Million US$ for trouble! Check."  
"Hardcore teenage lolitas! Only 4.99 a minute! Check."  
"Raw animal fuck! Hot cumming horny woman anal-raped by horse! Only... Definitely Check."  
"Free Harvard Exam in one week! Get any job! Impossible to see difference from real! Check."  
"Get 12-inches! Check."  
"Verify your PayPal order. Just submit your login identity and password at this completely reliable address... Check."  
"Hello dear friend H-ManRulesAll you specifically selected for personal merits... Check."  
"You have won a free yacht, just... Check."  
"Professional Doctor Esmer Clawford from university in Uzbekistan confirms... Check."  
"You are our 1-millionth customer! Check."  
"You are our 999999th customer! Check."  
"New revolutionary treatment! Check."  
"Single mom make 10 Million dollar work from home! You too can do! Check."  
"You're computer is not safe. Install this program to fix every problem in existence. Its not going to steal all you're personal information. Honest. Trust us. Check."  
"Do you think the President is a communist? Give us your credit card information to make a super-relevant vote. Lame. Check."  
"New Super-Viagra++++ will make you love-stallion! Women begging until dawn! Hmm, Oy'll give that one a 2-minute read-through."  
"!GIMEU'REMONYORELS! ! Check... Oy should probably have seen that one coming."

Hayato cracked his knuckles, and made an evil smile. "Well, well, boys and girls. This must be your very unlucky day. The H-Man doesn't take prisoners, and never signed a Geneva Convention. He is digital ruler of a state of one. Dig it." He used a command prompt to upload the new entries, plus the greater batch of almost unintelligibly misspelled messages, to his custom-made, self-evolving, far beyond state-of-the-art, virtual-hosted self-transferring/replicating A.I. tracking program. Then skimmed the GPS-coordinated results from a previous batch, initiated "The Final Countdown" as background music, and executed on another prompt. "3... 2... 1... Takeoff!" A NASA space shuttle animation filled the screen. "Last call satellite-referring and direct surveillance... Guilty: Further suspects found. Tracking; Guilty: Entire Cell Likely Catalogued; Guilty: Single Source; Guilty: Further suspects found. Tracking; Guilty; Not Guilty: Alternate Subjects found: Verifying; Not Guilty; Guilty; Guilty; Guilty... Damn, I had hoped for a better success-rate..." He hummed along to the song, and tapped "execute" another time, with a feverish exaltation mirrored in every feature of his face. "DIE! Die for daddy. Who hates ya baby?" He leaned against the back of his chair, and switched track, savouring a few minutes of Mozart's Funeral Sonata. "Jjjuuusssttt making the world a better place. Ryuu, of da mighty school of giant-robo shiny metal ass-kick, doesn't give the H-Man nearly enough credit."

"What are you doing Hayato?" Hitomi rolled his chair away from the screen before he had a chance to close any windows, and curiously checked them over, drawing the inherent logical conclusions."  
Hayato was surprised. "How did you notice?"  
"You talk, read, and scream out loud for yourself." She calmly carried on pouring over the contents. "I heard most of your monologue, and this puts it in context. Will you give me a further explanation now, or after some "questioning"?"  
Hayato gulped. "All right. Remember that r-c taze-bot hover-cam I scrambled together from the Chinese black market? Well, nobody likes a scammer, so a few of tech-savvier guys in the workshop next door wanted in, and reverse-engineered, miniaturised, improved the surveillance capabilities, remote A.I.-system interaction, and amped the range and energy-efficiency to a ridiculous level, waaayy ahead of the market. A few of your guys also gave a hand with that, and crafted a really nasty, but non-contagious, payload strand of the Ebola Virus."  
Hitomi sighed. "I think this place would be 10 times more efficient if you all applied this kind of enthusiasm and creativity to our regular work. Why Ebola virus?"  
"Ahihn-hah-hihf-hf-hf, poetic justice. "Nigeria letters" obviously."

"Oh, come on! It's funny! Don't be such a prude. You're a sensitive, Oy'm an insensitive, get it?"  
"You're a sick, sick, sick ball of sick Hayato. There is no emoticon that accurately conveys the way I feel about you."  
"Yeah, but Oy'm richer than you, so Oy can live with that."  
The esper frowned. "How can you know?"  
"Oy just emptied your bank account."  
Hitomi stared.  
"Hyih-hf-hf, gotcha!"  
"Do you realise that I could turn you into a vegetable by an accidental stray thought? And into a literal vegetable if I truly devoted some resources?"  
Hayato shivered. He popped open another can of the auburn holy brew and took a chug for confidence. "Seriously though, we're supposed to "uphold justice" right? Whatever that means. And if this isn't justice Oy don't know what is."  
The psychic, slash chemist-mystic, detective pondered the issue for a few moments. It did rather appeal to her sensibilities. "And there is no possibility that you could commit great wrongs upon innocents?"  
Hayato gave her a disbelieving. "Oh, please... ye of little faith" stare.  
Hitomi sloped in exasperation. "No of course not. What was I thinking? Carry on then. Maybe there is some hope for you after all?"  
Hayato waited until she had left the room and checked the monitors to ascertain that she was no longer in the building. (Aduh, as if! What's her problem? Someone should slap that bitch until she knows her place. The only sound out of that mouth should be slurp-slurp-slurp. Whatevah. Yak to da hand. And now for my expansion hobby-project...)

He devoted some effort to keep quiet this time, to avoid further unwanted snoopers, considered a few slogans and typed down "Has your identity been stolen? Have your accounts been hijacked? Did somebody chat up your children, rape them, put it on YouTube, and sell their body organs to the mob? Has a creepy stalker sent a hundred death threats, and with a kindergarten spelling grade on top? Did he post you corned beef made of mumsy? No problemo! The digital cowboy and his faithful Indian tracker are in the building. "Justice shall be served" is our motto. Or "Injustice shall be served" if you want that annoying neighbour to have a taste of all of the above, be shipped abroad as a meat-slave, and framed in the press as running child-porn rings. Have fun. Go wild. Laws are just the moral majority's lamer oppression of the moral minority anyway: 100% effectiveness or money-back guarantee. Google it fanboys." (Yeah, that'll do for now.) "Hifhf." (Unless Oy was the one who took your money of course.)

Hitomi's voice suddenly blinked to life on his personal transmitter. "Oh, and see if you can expand the operation to the administration, lobbyists, and legal departments of that savings-, life-, and sanity-fleecing science-fiction sect that always gets away on technicalities or political pressure."  
"Oy suppose. How much would you appreciate it?"  
"I'll consider not busting you the next few times I catch you in the act."  
"Good enough for me."  
"There's one more thing..."  
"Anything for you sweets. Want some candy from the sugar daddy? Oy'm lean, mean, obscene, and ready to rumble. Let's par-tay! Me love you looong time." He suggestively wiggled his eyebrows. "You. Me. Champagne. Strawberries. Whipped cream. Bubble bath. Strangling. Whipping. Bondage. Choose your poison. The H-Man aims to please, and is nothing if not flexible. What'cha say, down-and-dirty psychic orgasm boosting to avoid the mess? Oy'll try anything thrice."  
Hitomi sighed again. "No thank you. Just put some clothes on. In theory, this is supposed to be a workplace. Not a nudist camp."

Hayato absentmindedly closed down the connection, and made a quick diversion to write a few new posts in an ongoing online "war" between a few overstated cutesy-sweet dimwits, and frothing, stunted, one-track hate-addict lunatics, all of his own devising. He checked if he had managed to push any more buttons, to make another hoard of patsies pick a side, and bring their friends to the party. The certain-hit topic was: "The Stupid Are Breeding! Why hardboiled eugenics is a good idea, and the ways we should implement it." Heh... and nobody got the ironies. (Hail to the Chief, and march to my memes misfits! Da Commandah has spoken!) With any luck the never-ending 10,000+ posts thread would turn into a self-sustaining living thing of its own. Like creating parasitic artificial life without any code involved. There was a certain appeal to the concept. Just add complexity and stir... He shuddered. (Better watch out. Oy'm beginning to sound like Ayumu.)

Of course he fully believed in the merits of the notion as such. Around 90% of the parasitic cattle needed to be weeded out for proper sustainability and progress, which even some mainstream moguls had started to outline plans for, but no sufficiently charismatic leader had appeared to direct the enlightened yet. It was just a matter of time until they could completely overturn the gameboard, but for the moment he had to cool his heels, and gain satisfaction from milking the showman comedy potential for all it was worth.

"Law enforcement" had no knowledge or legislations to enforce anything on those beyond the system, who had no identities beyond what they choose for convenience, and now someone had the bright idea to contain some of them through supposed integration and usage against their own? Morons. You cannot contain, tame, or leash true chaos that is absolutely honest to itself. All it did was give them full access, along with yet another base to build connections in preparation for the coming apocalypse. Screw the moderates and "we have to draw the line somewhere" wimps, who didn't even realise that there never was any line to start with! Let's engineer "Lord of the Flies"-style genocide camps as social experiments in our backyards, and market the results as overstated Family Guy pratfall video clips.

He knew that visionaries agreed that it was far preferable to rule in hell than to serve in heaven. The old social order was dead and broken. Any remaining dreams, hopes, and ideals were tearing apart in the seams. There was nowhere left to hide. No hope for the impotent. No point or sense in anything. Sadists thrive and healers suffer. The prey all deserved what was about to happen. All of the "reality"-show watching; Enya- and Lady Gaga-listening; vanity-blogging; fart-twittering cattle with delusions of participation; Anyone who didn't embrace, further, and increase the sheer unfairness of existence. You either turned into a petulant traumatised victim who drowned in the tsunami of darkness, or became one with the flow of the currents. Welcome to life: Hope that you survive the experience.

After quickly growing bored with the usual antics, he backtracked and fast-forwarded the previously ignored video-feed checking up on the whereabouts of his old pal "R U K Mon?" Now to wait for an appropriate moment to unnerve him... Some punk was about to unload an Uzi at his back. Boooring! The spoilsport would obviously notice, and avoid it easily left on his own, which was way too dull. (Let's turn the stakes a teeny bit interesting.) "Don't think of flying pink elephants having an airline union strike!"

ooo000ooo

Coming up:  
"It's Nabiki-pwning season!" "Ukyo pwning-season!" "Nabiki pwning-season!" "Nabiki-pwning season!" "Ukyo-pwning season! ...Darnit."

ooo000ooo


	10. Is that an Okonomiyaki in your pocket?

ooo000ooo

"It should be noted that when he seizes a state the new ruler ought to determine all the injuries that he will need to inflict. He should inflict them once and for all, and not have to renew them every day."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

"Not by wrath does one kill, but by laughter."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

"A true gentleman is one who is never unintentionally rude."

- Oscar Wilde

ooo000ooo

Nabiki made her way home through the crowded streets. Ranma had left some 30 minutes ago, accompanied by a copy, but she had some additional small errands, or more precisely shopping, that she'd like to get done, and had let her "main" aspect stay behind without his knowledge. She currently wore the guise of another quite tall, stylish businesswoman, this one somehow incorporating an odd mixture of Asian eyes and Caucasian complexion while managing to keep a natural blue hair dye. Stand out and blend in at the same time, to walk smoothly but "unassumingly" signify your superiority to the rabble. It was a principle that tended to serve her well.

The drawback being that looking even vaguely western in Tokyo forced her to fend off a stream of panting sweaty, sleazy prostitution offers and attempted mashings from anything between go-getter casual date-rapists, to unsightly, self-conscious nerds. Or middle-aged men who had worked up enough courage to go real life from their usual custom-made love-dolls, hardcore subjugation, degradation, and torture of "uppity females" hentai, used teenage panties stores, and underage website networks visits. Alternately trying to spice up a lacklustre relationship by spending a surplus of money from a boring or stressful business work, which she technically could almost respect. That surveys among her peers declared their widespread willingness to accept said payment for services rendered made the worms bolder in crawling out of the woodwork. Hook five unconnected girls in one walk, and at least one of them should have enterprising Enjo Kosai aspirations, with the following scenario planned out, in control, and not necessarily compensated, as the word of a youth or a woman, much less both, didn't pull much hierarchical legal weight. And if the lecher brought some "friends", who took care to clean up, it was several words against one, or impossible to ascertain who in the assembly that committed the act, letting all go scot-free on a technicality. Group-rape generally almost seemed legal per definition in most nations, while reckoning for closure and dignity was a much nastier moral no-no.

"Bi-chan! I love your makeover!"  
Nabiki suddenly found herself in a forceful embrace. No extraneous pressure applied to hurt her in the slightest, but the grip was literally like solid steel. She couldn't budge it an inch. (Ukyo?! What is she doing here?)  
"The hair, the eyes, the chest... You must so give me the numbers to your stylist and personal trainer!"  
(Laying it on a bit thick are we?)  
"And that whirly aura! It's to die for! All ebony and scarlet with little sparkly strands going every which way! Why, they even lead to matching sets in a collection! Got to catch them all!" Ukyo used her right thumb, index- and middle fingers to light-heartedly delineate and play with what appeared to be thin air.  
Nabiki's body convulsed, briefly shifting in multiple colours and textures before she recovered. Her head was pounding. That was not fun.  
Ukyo innocently beamed at her.  
Thankfully Tokyoites were very good at putting anything not their business out of mind. (Well, that answers that. So what do I do now?)  
Ukyo took the lead by letting her captive go, instantly hooking her arm, and briskly guiding her towards a nearby diner.  
They sat down at a table. The ninja-cook complacently ordered two prepared bento, along with some cold water, seemingly oblivious to her companion's suspicious stares.  
Nabiki didn't touch her food.  
Ukyo chewed down several bites, unmindfully making her companion wait for an initiative. "It seems like you have the right idea. The chef could really do with a few pointers." She raised her eyebrows at Nabiki's anticipant demeanour. "Right, right, my old friend... Bikain, was it? "Be Cain", I always thought that name seemed fitting somehow."  
(Ho-ho, a horribly inane pun, how witty.) "You so crazy girlfriend."  
"No you da girl... several of them in fact... You could probably stand to lose a few, hmm?" Ukyo provided a telling wink.  
"Yes, go ahead, scare me." Nabiki overstated her intrinsic sardonic intonation.  
Ukyo calmly rose from her chair. "Thank you, but I already have."  
Nabiki noticed that her head felt cold (My hair! I never even saw her move!)  
Ukyo gave her cheerful smile, while putting some bills on the table. "Oh... and don't forget to get a new shirt... and dress. They look a little worse for the wear." Nabiki looked down. Shredded cloth lay neatly stacked in a pile under the table. (I'm only wearing underwear! In public! ...No calm down. It doesn't matter. This isn't really me remember?)  
Ukyo handed her a familiar looking wallet. "And thanks for treating me by the way. Just be sure to pick a better place next time. See you around sugar!" She casually opened the doors, went outside, and quickly disappeared into the crowd. The wallet, hair, and clothing simultaneously burst into flame, as if to signify a point.

(Worthless zeroes, losers, refuse, sheeple, lemmings, followers, nobodies, vermin, look for your kennels and scat!) Nabiki wandered away seething with rage, having conjured up some dark formal business clothes, and brusquely pushed her way through throngs of people in her way on the streets.  
(How dare she? That contemptuous little delusional, manic-compulsive, street-vendor simpleton! Nobody gets the better of me! Nobody!) The sheer indignity drowned out any subconscious pleas for restraint.  
She visualised Ukyo's countenance in her head, and observed her surroundings for surveillance cameras. (Jackpot! Let's see that comedian Kansai hick laugh at this!) She marched towards an elegant jewellery store, holding a sharpened giant spatula in each hand.  
"All right! This is a stick-...!" An involuntary spasm shook her body. Nabiki felt cold again, and her centre of balance seemed back to normal. (Shit!) She ran away, frantically attempting to hide within other guises than her own. Wildly hoping that her talent would kick in again, that any store clerks would have seen it as nothing more than a botched student prank, and that nobody familiar would catch a glimpse of her running half-clothed through the street.

Urd snorted up some sake. "I swear, this is the most fun since when I discovered YouTube."

ooo000ooo

It was late afternoon. Nabiki was lying in her bed, attempting to ponder, assess and strategize from her various experiences during the day, not necessarily in that order. She intensely disliked severe uncertainties. One should always have at least a reasonable understanding of the terrain before going to war. She had been furious and conceited enough to get sloppy, and had already made two great tactical blunders, the first within the jewellery store, and the second by indulging the delusion that she could prevail through brute force alone.

Oh, she had done her utmost to try. Still fuming with outrage she had promptly marched to the outside of Ukyo's combined restaurant and residence. Nabiki intensely focused on making as dense and large golems as she possibly could, with force and flexibility in perfect balance, and razor-whips instead of fingers, accompanied by sentient streams of acid. She was rather fond of the notion of leaving Ukyo to stew in one of them, slowly feeling it invade and dissolve her body, and it would efficiently help to remove any genetic traces from the remains. Schadenfreude would always be the truest joy, and she was going to feel very satisfied indeed. Regrettably, poison gas was apparently beyond her means, as any attempt immediately dispersed and destroyed the prototype, but excluding that minor setback it had been a perfect ambush... or so she had assumed.

Ukyo was working out in her backyard, going through a series of advanced aerial flips and strikes, to find herself surrounded by an all-front assault covering every direction and means of escape... Except that the target seemed wholly unflappable, even expectant, wouldn't stand still, and leisurely avoided dozens of simultaneous strikes, slicing the behemoths in two with single swipes of her weapon, or scattering liquid through air-pressure alone, as clouds of explosives billowed about them. It had been over within seconds, with Nabiki's simulacrums evaporating into thin air as they were destroyed. And as a final blow, Ukyo simply shook her head with closed eyes. "Really Bi-chan, what were you thinking?"

No, three humiliations in a row had been quite sufficient, thank you very much. She was dealing with people who could move swifter than sound, exert force measured in Mega- or maybe Giga-Newton, withstand kilometre-long falls into solid bedrock without damage, and in possession of expert combat skills, whereas Nabiki herself had consistently eschewed getting her hands dirty for anything further than light yoga and aerobics.

Nevertheless, regrets were for losers... and there were more than one way to skin a cat, preferably literally. Several premises had been accessible from the start. Ukyo had unwisely revealed her hand, by stating outright that she could sense and recognise Nabiki's aura or even use it to track down any copies. Given the evidence, this had been taken at face value. The chef had been able to single her out, right through the façade, in a crowd of thousands, and wasn't surprised in the least during the ambush, although the last bit may just have been that basic "sixth danger sense" thing even Akane could use. The disguise also shut down at a very inconvenient moment, ostensibly related to using it in a "detrimental" or "illegal" manner. It was unlikely that she simply lost control due to an agitated state, given that she usually had to will herself back consciously, and no previous occurrences existed.

Following that track, "detrimental" and "illegal" could both imply lots of things... her favourite being "insular sycophant". Also, didn't she manage to assault Ukyo and the muggers, and create a nuisance at that restaurant? She figured that the latter sort of made sense since she "helped" her family, and caused relatively minor harm, but the former? She had initiated a series of careful trial-and-error experiments... this time in non-fabricated garments, and maintained her primary appearance. While hiding through the relative anonymity within a crowd, she indifferently attempted to pierce the foot of some unfortunate pedestrian with a hastily modified stiletto heel, but it was reverted at the last moment. More "passive" violence such as a strangling wire likewise proved inefficient, as did pickpocket attempts. Even endeavours to jaywalk, spreading fallacious rumours to indiscriminate sensationalist magazines, or offering multiple allegations to the police, initiated an immediate erosion of any guises before she got started. She was forced to conclude that her previous attacks would have been immediately retracted in case they were in danger of connecting. Reactive, last resort, no option, self-defence might be within her repertoire, given the technically fully legal nature, but she didn't find the concept of going into a dark alley at night particularly attractive in case she was wrong.

Nabiki shuddered. This was extremely distressing, even beyond the severe reins it put to her ambitions. Winners didn't whine about "doing their best", they shot the people in front. If she could apply neither direct force, nor efficient incursion, she was as good as dead already. As Ranma had declared, in his own base fashion, Ukyo's pitiful self-image arguably made her significantly more "ethically" hampered than either Kodachi or Shampoo, even if that simply meant that she stuck to trickery, intimidation or battering, rather than casual assassination attempts... Then again, she successfully managed strictly to intimidate those junkies, and the obstruction had to be tackled somehow… It wouldn't do to disclose a position of weakness. Speaking of which, yes, Ukyo's most glaring spot had always been fear of loneliness, no cosy little "happily ever after", the very root for the hurdle in question. But underneath that: Incurable humiliation, lack of personal pride, and losing the fulfilment of dedication to her art. Striving to compensate for public perception, and maintaining self-perceived dignity through unforgiving standards had basically defined most of her existence… A familiar rush of invigorating focused exhilaration surged throughout Nabiki's mind and body. (Mmm, there's nothing like a little strategic warfare to feel like myself again. So... hiring some thugs to rape, break and tape her may be out, but how about the second best thing?)

ooo000ooo

Ukyo performed her daily morning ritual of sweeping up the street in front of her restaurant. It helped to uphold the required clean and wholesome image, customary Shinto social virtues, as well as to purify her mind from distractions.  
She emptied the collected trash in a waste bin and stretched her arms backward to work out any remaining kinks. "Yet another day at the salt mines then."  
It was an empty statement, which she didn't really believe in. She enjoyed her work, even if it could be tiresome to balance in combination with school. She checked the mailbox, just in case. Not that she expected anything beyond the occasional bill, which made her surprised to find a thin brown parcel. "That's strange. I haven't ordered anything."

She tore up the package. It contained a regular dark plastic home-burned DVD envelope, with a photograph as a cover. Ukyo looked at the image, blinked, and scrutinised it again. Yep, it was there all right. No mistake. A snapshot of herself in the buff, on her stomach, and languorously stretched over a white fur carpet, looking straight into the camera with a blissful expression on her face, dripping with oil as her shoulders were massaged by firm male hands. "Ran-chan!" Elegant, bold red, handwriting read: "Wish you were here. Or is that redundant?"

Ukyo tried to calm herself down and briskly paced into her room upstairs, placing the disc into her TV player. It didn't get better. Initially the video shoved several brief, continuously interchanging sequences, featuring "herself" enjoying more angles of interplay than she had dared to imagine... with her Ran-chan!  
It turned worse. Later scenes didn't include Ranma, but depicted disgusting, depraved acts she didn't even want to think about. She felt queasy, almost to the point of throwing up, despite being a woman who hadn't batted an eyelash at a cave full of ghosts.

Finally a closing still with "herself" from the left angle, clothed in a white bow around her hair, nothing else save a cooking apron, holding a giant spatula in her right hand, doing a "victory" sign with the other, winking with an unflappable smile, and possessing a markedly welted behind.  
A scrolling newsreel was shown at the foot of the screen: "A Kuonji Ukyo production. For that extra saucy flavour... She has a nasty habit of tearing up clothes, so she didn't have any left to wear... In case she ever feels naughty in the future... why, she might just expose this video publicly... digitally... for rental... to "specialised interests" magazines... at school... to her closest friends... enemies... perhaps regular TV features labelled "Ucchan's Okonomiyaki Orgy"? Why, customers might just get the wrong idea about her entire venue of commerce! Whee! Fun, fun, fun... Alternately, she could just learn to stay the hell out of the way from other people's business. Cheers!"  
Ukyo was literally squeezing her teeth together in outraged fury. "Bitch!"

ooo000ooo

Nabiki innocently whistled to herself before going to bed that night.  
Ranma was too distressed over being unexpectedly gagged with an artificial apple, splattered with gravy sauce, clad in Chippendale underwear, bow-tie, a brand stockbroker coat, tied-up with massive titanium chains, and positioned on a bed of what looked like 10,000-Yen bills, to notice. "Ghsh shh jshk sho…" He chewed through the choker, and spit it out. "This is just messed up beyond words."  
Nabiki gently refastened it. She was wearing a classy secretary outfit. "Oh shush. Sugar has been a very good girl. She deserves some reward for a productive days work." She nestled into the pile of money, threw it into the air, rolled around, enveloped herself in it, and relished the bliss of her growing excitement. She quivered, and grasped it closer to her beating bosom. "Mhhmnnn!" That almost did it for her right there.  
She straddled Ranma's stomach, and gazed into his eyes, her face awash with boundless desire for everything that life had to offer. She was covered in perspiration, and her breathing remained sped up to brief excited gasps. "Precious, sugar is in the mood so don't spoil it. When she takes this out, say: "I'm an unrivalled tycoon. I'm a Hollywood mega-star in my spare time. I make and break nations. Donald Trump makes my dinner. I'm going to lavish you in treasures beyond imagining." Again, and again, and again..."  
"Oo schackng schayko!"  
Nabiki impatiently massaged his chest. "Precious, sugar is cosplaying for your benefit all the time, so do her this teensy-weensy favour to make her very happy, okay?"  
Ranma groaned, eventually nodded, and let her remove the apple.  
"I'm a Hollywood tycoon..."  
Nabiki trembled. "Yes! Oh yes... that's it."

ooo000ooo

Coming up:  
The notion of "romantic dinner" has never been more misunderstood. Nabiki gets the proverbial offer she can't refuse. The bets are off for how long the pact will last without a single backstab.

ooo000ooo


	11. Sexy minds - Shades of black

ooo000ooo

"Every aspect of Western culture needs a new code of ethics - a rational ethics - as a precondition of rebirth."

- Ayn Rand

"It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious."

- Oscar Wilde

"To give style to one's character - a great and rare art! He exercises it who surveys all that his nature presents in strength and weakness and then moulds it to an artistic plan until everything appears as art and reason, and even the weaknesses delight the eye."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

"Men in general judge more by the sense of sight than by the sense of touch, because everyone can see, but only a few can test by feeling. Everyone sees what you seem to be, few know what you really are, and those few do not dare take a stand against the general opinion."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

ooo000ooo

A cultured-looking, tall, dark-haired, and dimpled youngish man, smoothly filling up a well balanced, elegant but leisurely-unbuttoned dark tuxedo, and a white silk shirt, stood by a well-laid table. Silver candlesticks spreading a soft pleasant light over the posh, tastefully Feng Shui ordered dining room, including a modern mini-bar, ergonomic chairs, choice paintings from noteworthy up-and-coming artists, and a state of the art surround speaker system.  
He softly stroked a sharp claw into the neck of a seated teenage girl. She squirmed in pain and terror, but could not move, transfixed in place by his gaze. A pale barren husk of the same age and clad in a twin brightly cheerful colourful dress, was seated next to her, unmoved from the position it died a few scant minutes earlier. Great chunks of meat were missing alongside its frame. If someone looked carefully he or she might notice that it had been gradually removed in delicate, almost caressing nibbles. Soft violin music was playing in the background.  
"Now, now. One mustn't hurry. A true delicacy should be relished. Let's both keep still, and savour the perfection of the moment together." The man placed a glass towards the gushing blood, let it fill to the brim, and put a compressor on the wound, expertly sealing it. He inhaled the aroma and took a sip. "Ahhh, type B, 1993, a most excellent year. Rare, nearly full-blooded Kyoto stock, slightly dry taste, glychemically balanced, almost no sweetness, but rich with minerals and vitamins, a superb choice for a patron of fine cuisine. I think I shall tap some for a later occasion."

The girl defiantly stared back at him with a vehemence strongly belying her unassuming frame and sunny colouration. "Bastard. I swear that you will pay for this."  
The man did not let the comment distract him, and calmly continued to explore the nuances of his experience for several seconds before taking the time to reply. "Still able to speak through the trance? I am impressed. Morality is founded on the ability to accept the truth. I am a vampire. I feed on you the way you feed on livestock. Why the hypocrisy? You cannot fault someone for wanting to eat can you?"  
The teenager remained hard as granite, seemingly completely unmindful of the wound in her neck. "Philosophical "truth" is relative. Even empirical science can fluctuate. Morality can be founded on authentic instincts and insights, or nonsensical, systematically corrupt dogmas, including that balancing the scales through retribution is somehow considered worse than unwarranted extensive physical or psychological torture for no other reasons than personal joy and benefit, or that pleasure and ambition are sins in themselves. It is also a truly hollow concept without genuine conscience and compassion. I'm a vegetarian, livestock never talked back to you, as the world stands they sadly would not even have room to exist if everyone shared my disposition, and we usually don't keep them alive while we devour them."  
The gentleman yuppie gave a faint smile of patronising interest. "Ah-ah, you mean to say that you don't understand them. Perhaps cows in the field were in truth expunging great mathematical connections, forever lost to the world due to unconsidered rash actions of an ignorant farmhand?"  
"I'll stick with Occam's Razor if it's all the same to you. I've met vampires that make an honest living, register themselves as having a rare blood disease, and get provisions from a local supply without harming, much less extinguishing sentient creatures, and even without it you don't really risk to perish, you simply get abstinence pains. You're just a sick old bastard needing an excuse."  
He chuckled in soft amusement. "Ah the naiveté of youth. I am simply an honest sportsman and connoisseur, enjoying the hunt and kill of the most difficult game. Like a bullfighter I may have all the advantages in a pre-written drama of my own devising, but a poetic soul should savour every exhausted breath, every quickening heartbeat, every slightest smell of panic, every taste of sweat... The stark reality of the hunt truly experienced as the perfect seasonings and appetisers of an exquisite meal, outdoing the refined choreography of the most superb French restaurants. Culminating as the flavour of blood and innards write a symphony on my tongue and nostrils in a celebration of my established superiority. Even the very definition of your vaunted "civilisation" and judicial system agrees with me. The premeditated joy, flair, and initiative of a true predator always has a far greater chance of success, acceptance, and concealment, than the reactive whipped dog perceptibly biting back at its tormentor in madness and desperation. Besides, there are more ghastly things than me around. Succubae drink of souls, not blood. I am quite the milksop compared to some of my acquaintances."  
"Not all of them find that option morally acceptable. As you well know, there are many non-sentient sources of raw ether, and systems of mystics set up to assist those in need. There are safeguards set in place, and you are wantonly choosing to violate them."  
"My child, you are clearly more than you appear, but that's misguided tomahto-tomayto pish-posh. Where is the life in structured clinical procedure? Where are the joy, the zest, the experience, and the raw passion? Should free spirits not embrace it by the throat, and claim our place at the top of the food chain, rather than be hiding in a closet, and die of boredom to avoid unsettling the sheep?"  
"Cut the façade activist pretences. If brutality-obsessed anachronisms such as yourself cared the least about your brethren they wouldn't reinforce all the misconceptions giving "the sheep" very good reasons to be unsettled."  
The man sighed and wiggled a disparaging finger. "Now, now, quite frankly, I think it's very bigoted of you to condemn people who don't try to enforce a compulsory system on anyone else. It's just as bad as being a racist really. If they wanted to live they could have just armed themselves better. It was their choice to make, so who am I to infringe on it? "Justice" and "karma" are simply other terms for oppression."  
If possible, the girl's voice turned even harder. Diamonds would have shattered in a strain test. "Smooth catch-all rationalisation. Cynically paint yourself as the inoffensive victim, while forcing your system on the unfortunates bleeding to death or suffering in your path because they didn't carry machine-guns, wear body-armour, sit in a bunker surrounded by state-of-the-art surveillance systems, and keep alert 24 hours a day. Any possible negative appellation for what you are would seem woefully deficient in the context. You are very nearly as truly vile and irredeemable in every respect as it is possible for any sentient to get. You are not content simply to commit atrocities; you "moralise" about putting them into system. But to verify, you are seriously stating that if I were higher up your extremely simplified and convenient definition of the "food chain", I would be free to do whatever I want with you?"  
He frowned in a somewhat concerned evaluation of possibilities. Something was very, very wrong here. "Well, certainly, that would not be a problem if it were according to your dictates, but it is highly unlikely as I have ensured that the odds work in my favour through extensive training in various weaponry. As I said, I am perfectly comfortable with, and stand for what I am. One must be true to one's nature after all." His mouth reflexively sprouted the automated replies while his mind was occupied elsewhere.  
"I'm really glad that you feel that way." She turned her head to the side. "Mister Kumon, if you'd please."  
"Piece of cake."  
The vampire suddenly noticed that he sported five hand-sized gaping holes in his trunk, and then found himself disarmed, literally... and "dislegged". The entire process had taken at most a tenth of a second, too swift for even a night-creature to counter. "Oh dear."

Hitomi held the temporarily crippled creature by the hair of its neck. "However, you are right that we do like to tell ourselves our little delusions to get by in life. I would certainly prefer to think that I couldn't have arrived in time to stop you from butchering those little girls before I go to sleep tonight. Instead I had to gain satisfaction from setting up this little drama to erase any potential doubts of your fully conscious culpability." The broken body seated by the table seemingly turned transparent and dissolved with her disguise and wounds, as imaginings and the stuff of dreams. "Now, since you so graciously made the offer..."  
Her captive apprehensively reassessed his now unveiled position. "Ah... well if it's all the same to you, I think I'd rather that you refrained, and my ever so well-fed lawyers would have something to say about you infringing on my constitutional rights as an endangered species. After all, I had no choice due to being compelled by my thirst."  
Hitomi showed a very unpleasant smile, her pupils twin pale silver moons of ominous promise. "Yes, and we wouldn't want that would we, so I have an alternative. You see I managed to sample the full experience from your last victim, right before she passed away. I have no doubts that a connoisseur like yourself could possibly want to miss out on all the nuances of such an elusive dish, in every graphic detail, and as you asserted, methodical and well-connected premeditation tends to succeed, while impulsive, crazed self-defence does not."  
"A most laudable intent, I'm sure, but I think you'll find me quite trained and safeguarded against such assaults after centuries of conditioning."  
"You are not the only one older than you look, and given my own lack of wounds, what did you truly drink?"  
The vampire shuddered as his mind was forcibly invaded with all the grace of a sledgehammer.  
"Replay." Hitomi's voice held no emotion, no sympathy, and no trace of humanity, just pitiless reckoning, force and counter-force, action and reaction, weighing of the scales.  
The creature's eyes bulged out in pain and terror.  
"Replay."  
Drool was running from his mouth.  
"Replay."  
"His eyes rolled backwards."  
"Replay."  
"His facial features turned fully unresponsive.  
"Replay."  
Ryuu put a hand on her shoulder.  
Hitomi ignored him, momentarily shutting off the cyclic loop to address the offender. "You fed on children for sport and sensual highs, and I have maligned you in poetic fashion. Your condition ensures that you can no longer sense personal bodily pain, but this will feed directly into your consciousness and never leave. You will never forget exactly what you have done. Sham cries for redemption will not matter. Your mind will betray and imprison you forever, and you will be too irrational to end it. Even death might not stop you in the long term. I'd rather feel content that your suffering will be as prolonged and excruciating as that of your countless victims, and that, regardless what happens, the effects will forever render you a hollow incoherent shell that can nevermore prey on the innocent."  
"Thrrrrr rrrrr nn inshnts..." The leech mechanically gurgled before loosing itself to the trance once more.

Ryuu frowned. "Tell me the difference between you two again? I'm beginning to think that you're almost as bad as he is. What's next? Weed out any petty crooks and junkies, since society shouldn't have to take responsibility for supporting unwanted elements?"  
Hitomi suddenly looked very old, and very tired, despite her relatively youthful appearance. "No, there are still worlds of distinction, but I'd much prefer that it was a universe again."

30 minutes afterwards Hayato's voice routinely pinged to life again. "Blu-ba-bo-bee-blo-bla-bla-blaaah! Daaayymn but that butthurt bitch-bitchity-bitch-bitch gets annoying with her little miss perfect, "look ma, Oy take myself seriously", smug and pedantic, politically correct holier-than-thou. She's probably just into that "let's feel superior through aggressive naiveté" power trip. Paaa-the-tic. What's her major malfunction anyway? An uncivilised man is more courteous than a civilised man, because he knows that he may lose his head with a false move. Everyone should just get a legal kill-quota of one nuisance a year, and the world would be much better off. Just shoot the brains out of anyone who is texting on the go or holding up lines at the coffee shop or supermarket, and the rest will learn to hurry up. You feel me?"  
"Yeah, the Vikings were a charming bunch, and that'd work out great on your end, because you're such a likeable and inoffensive guy. Ever heard of Sicily and Northern Ireland, or better yet, Rwanda, Yugoslavia, and Sudan? There're some fine messes of clan vendettas to aspire to."  
"Yis-yis. Bzzt! Captain Obvious speaking! We have incoming platitudes! Alert Uncyclopaedia! I repeat... Think outside of the box dude. Stand for something instead of just nit picking. A benevolent tyrant could keep it in check."  
"Benevolent to whom, and what makes you think that you'd get to cherry-pick? Besides, how would you avoid getting everyone bunkered in their cellars?"  
"Cellars are underrated... Fuck! Why couldn't this have been the real deal? Oy mean think: "Hot young tramp eaten aliiive by a dashing vampire! Is this too good to be true? Did heee swallow more than he can chew? Was she aaasking for it? There is only one way to find out! See this lady-killer eat her heart out, and munch it into a thousand pieces... aheh... 7 PM... this Saturday... aaat... yourchoicefavouritechannelinserthere! ...Dooon't you dare miss it!" in a bubbly slimy announcer voice. Forget the Net dungeons. That shit would have been so hot, prime-time TV would eat out of my ass to get it before it vaporised."  
"There's a nice picture."

ooo000ooo

Nabiki was sitting in her room by her desk, attempting to focus on her homework, but only succeeding in almost dozing off. All of it seemed so very small. She looked into the mirror and shifted into a plump, beady-eyed Caucasian lady, with a snooty scowl, hair in a bun, an upper class, garlanded 19th-century dress, a tiny pink umbrella, theatre-glasses, and a high-pitched voice. "How gauche! I feel unclean, despoiled... common! Heeeaadsman! By golly, serve your mistress you dirty-faced squinting ape, and do something about this "educator" that so vexes me! 'Oorf with his head, and drive on the proper side of the road you horrid excrement of colonial scum!" She switched back. Nah, no dice, her mind felt overworked from coping with too much information and stimuli after the daily de-spawn moment. She was bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. Too tired to do anything, but too worked-up to sleep.  
In lack of alternatives she began to browse through Ranma's crappy DVD collection like some regular couch potato. Bruce Lee, Bruce Lee, Bruce lee, Jackie Chan, Jackie Chan, Jackie Chan, Hong Kong action-crap, lots more of it, Crouching Tiger, Hero, Ong Bak, Zatoichi, Once Upon A Time In China I-III, Kurosawa, Kurosawa, Kurosawa... well, those might do. Outdated and without computer animation, but she supposed that it was an obligatory part of pop-culture education.

Her attention unconsciously wandered back to the Ukyo incident. It had brought a few potential revelations that needed to be followed up on. If self-defence payback was allowed, might that extend to droll and outmoded concepts of karmic "balance"? Let's hypothetically say that she extended some adaptation of her old blackmail operation to overbearing conceited spoiled brat celebrities with a habit of luring moths to the fame, and then slipping pictures plus details of aptitude for every nightly conquest to any available blogs and gossip-columns in need of patronage? After all, it might be argued that she was defending the confidentiality of smitten waifs and desperate gold-diggers alike, as well as preventing future victims. Turning the tables, so to speak, might suffice as an amusing challenge. Still, she was currently far too overworked to figure out how or when to go about it, and filed it away for future reference.

A sudden gush of wind ruffled her hair. A menacing figure stood to the left by her, now, open window, arms crossed and leisurely leaning his back against the wall. "Yo."  
Nabiki outwardly didn't pay him much notice and continued looking over the homework, while indifferently playing with a pencil in her right hand. "What do you want Taro?" As standoffishly complacent as usual, but she had to admit that he looked considerably more masculine than she remembered. No vain mirror-watching makeup, just pure rough confidence clothed in a Tiger Armani, slightly unbuttoned in the chest area, showcasing the heads of two ornate reptiles baring their teeth. She didn't overlook the various implications. It was quite the replacement for oversized earrings.  
"What everyone wants naturally."  
Nabiki dismissively wagged her left hand in his direction. "Yes, yes, survival, health, success, sex, stimulation, variety, renown, reverence, control, purpose, advancement, vengeance, and power."  
He chuckled. "See, you do know me. We're very much alike."  
Nabiki used her intertwined hands as support for her head. "You wish. Get to the point."  
"Let's just say that there are people who make it their business to monitor comings and goings regarding "out-of-the-ordinary" major transactions, and that I've kept a certain major flare under wraps."  
Did everyone around here suffer from some major compulsion to butt in? "Oh? I suppose that there might have been an "accident" involved regarding the report, and that you have envisioned some type of catch?"  
Taro's lips curved in slight amusement. "That haughty ironic accent is really hot. You must have spent months perfecting it. I could easily get you loaded phone-sex clients."  
Nabiki dryly opted to ignore the bait. "I'll pass, thanks."  
"To put it simply, I'm a climber, and your talents could prove very useful."  
"I think you'll find yourself disappointed. I'm not a very accomplished assassin."  
Taro smirked. "So you've already discovered that? Running into some snags?"  
Nabiki habitually didn't let slip any hint of surprise. "I'm very happy for your not-at-all creepy new hobby to spy on women's medical statistics or equivalent substitutes, but what do you want from me, and how could you possibly make it worth the risk and effort?"  
Taro replied in a measured, intense and conniving rhythm of voice. It was almost hypnotic. "Let's suppose that you have a certain knack for collecting information... or whispering suggestions... You could apply this to many... very appreciative... very powerful... men." There was some unfamiliar terrifying quality in his deep eyes and predatory smile. Bottomless pits, and the true joy of slaughter unified in perfect harmony.  
Nabiki shivered. This was not the delusional amateur she knew. This was a young dragon. "I'm not your damn hooker!" she spluttered, but quickly re-gathered her composure. He made her lose her cool. Curse him for this indignity! She wanted to rip that leer straight off his face!

Given her apparent discomfort Taro assumed his usual tranquil smile, complemented by nearly closed eyelids. He familiarly put his right hand on her corresponding shoulder. "Now, let's not be like that. I believe we can have a very agreeable relationship. We seamlessly complement each other." He moved forward and placed his mouth beside her left ear.  
Nabiki could feel his calm, steady breaths.  
"I can kill for you." Taro whispered.  
A chill went down her spine.  
"Anyone... anywhere... anytime."  
Her heart was racing.  
"You're a tigress... You hate to be restrained... to be cornered... I can cover every angle... every loophole... I know everything."  
She was captivated.  
"You can get it all... I can be the face and you can be the shadow."  
Every word went straight past her defences.  
"You will be the formal consort... a true dragon-lady... feared and worshipped... the ruler of an empire."  
Her mind raced. Time slowed to a crawl.  
"You can keep your boyfriend... your life... your plans... You can be everywhere... Nobody would ever know."  
Anything she could ever want...  
"Pure power... Pure chi... Pure life... What so very few can reach... no matter the training... You must have wanted it... badly... You didn't attain it... couldn't have been born with the capacity... only the youngest... only a naive spastic... She had immense potential... you had none... It won't matter... they will bow to you all the same."

Taro pulled back, returning to a normal tone of voice. "I hope that I've caught your ear."  
Nabiki mutely nodded, for once simultaneously looking exposed and feeling like it, embracing her chest, while longing and adrenaline covered her body with perspiration.  
Taro winked at her. "You'd make a very huggable evil overlord."  
Nabiki loosened up, smiling a little. She switched to a petite emerald cheongsam, with a crimson oriental dragon emblem, manifested a cigarette holder between her right index and middle fingers, and took a puff. "It's part of my charm," she drawled.  
"Haw! You're a card, you really are. I do like you."  
She winked. "Of course you do. I'm a very likeable sort." This was better. She had a flow going.  
"Don't overdo it." Taro climbed up through the windowsill, and went out, unaffectedly balancing on the branch of a tree, facing her sideways. "Glad to see you, seriously."  
"Yeah... me too." In a way it was relieving to communicate at a core level, without limiting pretensions obstructing the way.

Taro paused and turned around. "Now, I'd really prefer not to say this, but I assume that you know how these things work?" He held her gaze, staring deep into her eyes.  
Nabiki earnestly nodded again.  
He gravely inspected her for a few seconds. "All right... If you ever even think of betraying, playing, backstabbing or double-crossing me, I will know. It will not succeed. I can find you, and will hunt down and destroy every hidden piece of you, no matter how tiny. I know your limitations, you will not be able to stop me, and it will all be over swifter than you ever thought possible." Taro meaningfully tapped the space between his eyes "Chi, better than a multi-tool. Never leave home without it." then refocused on the entranced Nabiki.  
"You cannot take shelter behind the faggot. He is a playground combatant who fights for fun or obligation. I'm a mercenary. I've concealed myself at rooftops, in apartments, and behind undergrowth, to shoot targets through the eyes with sniper rifles from a 500-metre distance right when they least expect it. He doesn't like to kill. I get kicks from setting up landmine traps around refugee camps, and spraying civilians with poison gas. He expects a fair fight but will cheat if he's outmatched. I play for keeps from the start. If you so much as hint at any of this, very distressing things will befall him out of necessity. Have I made myself clear?"

Nabiki was slightly surprised to find herself composed, even peaceful in the face of the harangue. Possibly since she for once had no intentions, delusions or incentives for double-dealing. Taro had thought this through. He truly was far more useful alive as a loosely connected business-partner, supervising another element of the organisation without getting in each other's way, and she knew that he needed her just as much. "I'll have to think it over."  
"Do that, but don't wait too long or I will find other routes. Ciao!" He instantly disappeared quicker than she was able to follow. The evening had turned quite interesting after all. (It's wrong! It's wrong! It's wrong! ...Hush now... it definitely feels right.) 

ooo000ooo

Coming up:  
A rivalry ends, as another begins. The mixture inevitably builds towards critical mass.

ooo000ooo 


	12. Air, Earth, and Burning Tygers

ooo000ooo

"Imagination is a quality given a man to compensate him for what he is not, and a sense of humour was provided to console him for what he is."

- Oscar Wilde

"We do not place especial value on the possession of a virtue until we notice its total absence in our opponent."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

"One change always leaves the way open for the establishment of others."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

ooo000ooo

Four nearly impossibly innocent-looking 8-year old girl-scouts stood by a small stand by the main intersection of a crowded wealthy business district. They displayed innocent tear-ridden eyes as trembling lips and unsteady voices told passersbys about starving war-torn 3rd world children, and the successful relief-work of a familiar-sounding charity organisation, while a couple of outwardly poor-looking sobbing old ladies handed over amounts beyond the range of what they could reasonably be able to afford. The currently hooked elegantly dressed businessmen at this point either felt empathetic or embarrassed by the situation, and handed over sufficiently sizeable bills to exceed the crones, either accompanied by a kindly pat on the head for the starry-eyed child, whereupon they strolled away with a light-hearted warm and fuzzy feeling inside, or by an extremely strained thin smile to not look bad in front of their colleagues, while wishing to have been anywhere else at this point. The girls accepted the grants with grateful seemingly inexperienced traditional bows or western curtsies, and moved on to another group of targets who looked wealthy and familiar with each other.

After around a quarter of an hour an hour the girls and crones unassumingly moved around a corner without bringing attention, similar groups of children efficiently set up their little business stands elsewhere in the vicinity, and variations of the procedure were repeated for a couple of hours, whereupon the last party discretely disappeared into the rushing crowd, turned hazy, seemingly flowed together between one step and another, and everyone's favourite professional vamp was back in action.

Nabiki swiftly thumbed through the profits. A quite lucrative few work hours, and with plenty of further target locations. Some weeks should be enough for the initial financing of more ambitious projects. She could apparently stretch the leash on this one, as long as she allowed the donors to feel satisfied with doing a good deed, strictly scammed citizens who would not perceive the monetary loss, purely "represented" charities for which the contributions would not have reached the intended recipients, underlined the useful philosophy "don't ever help anyone" for whatever point the suckers went into "duh!" mode, and continuously repeated the mantra... although it had demanded some trial and error. At least something useful came out of Ukyo dressing up as a speed-bump, as it had illustrated that there existed ways to work and train around the curious but inane fail-safe limitations. Oh, and this day wasn't too bad in that respect either. Self-defence was apparently allowed to a certain degree, as she had to kick the crap out of a few overly grabby paedophiles. This was Japan after all, so it's not as if the event was unexpected.

The basics seemed to lie in subconscious "negotiation" through a sufficient foundation in "reasonable doubt" and complex rationalising moral dissonance. Preferably deeper and more complex than simple marketing catchphrases. If Nazi morons could build a system for the idea it shouldn't be too hard, and really, cognitive self-delusion was what made the world go around... Law, she definitely had to read up on law... possibly the US, Russian, Chinese, or Italian systems. The more manipulative, hollow, and corrupt the better. Singapore? Never mind, anything should be a start. If she really managed to completely slip out of her shackles, she would never have to bother with this kind of chickenshit again... she shuddered in exhilaration, and took a few deep breaths to calm herself... Nothing whatsoever that this world had to offer would ever be beyond her reach.

The snarky opportunist was getting closer to home, and habitually switched to something more inconspicuous while passing close to Ucchan's restaurant. The ludicrous cross-dressing spatula-fetishist ninja-descendant had been suspiciously low profile lately. Oh sure, just as expected, she had swiftly looked through the middle Tendo daughter's room and drawers for any clues to where she might keep the video, but only found a "It's the digital age, stupid. The file is stored online. Touch me and it goes public" note beside a photograph giving her the finger. She was likely taking some time off to cool down and evaluate her (lack of) options after that. It wasn't like she could approach the Amazons for assistance. They would gladly use the blackmail themselves, and beyond that whom did she have really? Her pet shuriken-wielding doormat, other restaurateurs, and maybe the babbling wannabe samurai? Ha! If she eventually decided to say "screw it!" and try something after the shock wore off, or even swallowed her pride and tattled to "her bestest buddy Ran-chan!" about it, there were always other ways to deal with it. Nabiki had listed assorted available options for bribing the bitch off, or permanently disappearing her, and had dug up some family history for any available closet skeletons, or potentially hazardous stale but revivable ninja clan alliances... which naturally was much trickier, but whatever works. She shrugged, and started to hum the rhythm of "Dirty Laundry" to herself; an old and somewhat obscure song sure, but she liked the lyrics.

The Amazons naturally constituted a much more difficult problem. She had no illusions about being able to circumvent them for much longer. Shampoo was resourceful and dangerous enough, but she didn't even want to think about antagonising Cologne. However, she did have one potential major bargaining chip. Something that the old ghoul should want more than good breeding stock for her bloodline... Youth!

A few months back Akane's former pitiful snuggle-bacon piggy-wiggy had stumbled upon spores of immensely valuable age-adjusting magical mushrooms while wandering some random obscure hidden area, resulting in the usual silly shenanigans with everyone except herself somehow overlooking the full implications of the treasure. Baby sis had asked for her help in harvesting the crop to get the babies back to normal... so, yeah, thanks for just dropping such a staggering opportunity in my lap you myopic brat. It would have been criminally negligent not to take advantage and inconspicuously cultivating a little habitat in a secluded part of the garden. It would have been an awesome rainy day insurance and retirement fond.

Of course, the avaricious girl's ascended condition largely rendered the point moot, unless she eventually decided that billionaires-only deluxe merchandising was worth the massive attention, but, regardless, the question remained: Would the hag accept it as a full payoff for permanently swearing off all interference and redirecting Shampoo towards some other eligible red-blooded supernatural master warrior genetic stock? Ryu was available...

In addition the Chinese grandmaster possessed items and skills that Nabiki wanted to bad that it itched in her loins from thinking about it. Memory manipulation, remote control, possibly even more useful and valuable magic trinkets... what an aspiring Machiavellian with her talents could accomplish with that sort of arsenal... wonderful... but would that be pushing too far, to demand too much? Would even the base minimum requirement be accepted? What would stop the resourceful elder to simply locate and snatch the rejuvenation source? A digital file was one thing, but an actual physical item would be nigh impossible to to successfully hide from these people. And then what? Open cards, bared throat, nowhere to hide, plans destroyed, and summarily assassinated? Nabiki sighed. She'd apparently have to manage an honest talk with Ranma to get input and assistance. She hated having to resort to playing things straight and upfront, but it was just too dangerous to handle on her own, and he probably understood Cologne better than she did... It would have to be handled soon, and she didn't at all look forward to it, but if it weren't dealt with she most likely wouldn't be safe anywhere on Earth, and couldn't carve out her vast slice of life with that kind of constant paranoia. One thing at a time though. There were some other urgent matters to attend to first...

That bridge over there looked awfully familiar. Nabiki broke into a sudden stop. She had been sufficiently deep in thought to overshoot, and almost walked to her old tennis court practice out of habit. She idly wondered if Ranma would like to play with her sometime, then giggled at the thought of a supersonic blur and a rapidly shifting giant amorphous blob attempting to keep a game going. As incompatible as usual then.

She turned on her heel and strolled down to the currently uncommonly unoccupied small hereditary manor that had served as her home for as long as she could remember. She pushed to open the gates displaying the ever-present "Tendo Martial Arts Centre of Indiscriminate Fighting" sign, with another by the side: "To defeat owner in savage combat, use the rear entrance." That one always struck her as amusing. She shook off the wistful mood, and went inside of the surrounding ornamental palisade, past the traditional garden and small koi pond, ignored the dojo, and went inside the kitchen entrance. She found some reasonably tasty leftovers from the fridge, some flavoured rice balls, seasoned chicken teriyaki, a soda, an apple, and an ice-cream cone, put them on a tray, went up the stairs to her room, and put on some music on the mp3 stereo by the bedside.

Nabiki took some time off to relax while eating and browsed through a more adulthood-themed seinen manga, having mostly managed to "get over" juvenile shoujo at this point, and then played some quick competitive Starcraft real-time strategy game sessions, having quickly grown bored with the too time-consuming WoW variants, as role-playing and continuously reinventing herself as whoever she felt like being at the moment was far more interesting applied to real life, especially taken to exhilarating hyper-accelerated method acting degrees, and the online poker sessions had grown too rigged and the competition too professional to guarantee any profits in recent years. It was fun while it lasted though.

(Okay, that was that. I can't put this off any more!) She shut down the screen, picked up a receiver for the family phone line, dialled the number found in an online register, visualised the semblance and intonation of her youngest sibling, and patiently listened to the beeps on the other end of the line, waiting for somebody to answer the call.

A male voice responded. "Hello? This is the Unryuu dojo."  
A familiar spasm switched her back. Clear-cut impostor stints seemed to be a bigger problem than pure fabrications. (Well, whatever. It was worth a test run to get information. It is not as if I intended to use it upfront. Too risky.) "Hi, this is Nabiki, Akane's sister." (Familiarity is good.)  
"...Yes, I visited some time back. If you're not too busy, could you be a dear and reserve an hour or so for me today?" (Predictable answer.)  
"...You're such a sweet boy. Akari sure is a lucky gal." (Some people have no taste at all. He would drive me crazy in no time.)  
"...I'll come visit myself. There's no need to worry." (As if I would ever wait for Bubba the living delay.)  
"...No, no, she doesn't have to prepare anything special." (Oh yes, I really want someone remotely perceptive in the room.)  
"...This is very awkward for me. I'd rather talk to you alone." (Come on. Work with me here.)  
"...I'm feeling desperate. I think you are the only one who can help." (All right, hit the right strings. Put out the lure...)  
"...It's a very sensitive matter, but I will explain in a few hours." (And haul him in.)  
"...No, I'm just drained, not in so poor health that I can't travel." (Gotcha!)  
"...No, I need to keep this in private. You don't have to send her over for a check-up, but I appreciate the thought." (Dimwit. I just said alone. Aaaaalllloooouuunnnn, get it?)  
"...You take care too." (Aaannd she strikes another home run!)

Nabiki closed the connection. She had dreaded taking this step, but recent events had clearly demonstrated that it was just a matter of time, and she would prefer that it unfolded on her own terms. She had given the subject some thought, and if she had made the right deductions this should simultaneously render lover-boy more pliable to her intents, and provide a semi-"acceptable" spin.

If not... well she would have preferred to achieve success in her own name, but if there was urgent need she could do multiple confidential transfers of funds, and if she completely wiped her tracks she could hide herself abroad under false pretences, no matter Ukyo's delusions, and it should at least stall the Amazons. Ranma was hers, body and soul, and had a prospective lifespan of over 300 years. She could afford to wait for the right opportunity, and a sufficient diversification of talents. Time was finally on her side, and she would have her empire, lack of obsessive genius notwithstanding... especially with some help from her overconfident prospective business-partner... although merc-boy definitely had to dump the E-word if anyone was going to take them seriously.

She simulated the raspiest, hissing, most archetypical "dastardly" inflection that she possibly could. "Hello, I am eeeeevil, nyehehehehe. It'sss a political ssstatement you sssee. Here isss my card: Femme fatale; Player of gamesss; Prada wearing devil; Writer of "10 easssy steps to get away with being really bad, and why you'll like it." and "Zssen, and the art of finding the naughty you." Make your neighboursss jealousss: Call XXX-VILLAIN for professional consssultation... Whooo spooky, I get tingly all over... Pardon me, but I have a black hat to dry-clean and a pointy moussstache to trim. What!? No open ssslotsss? Pfah! Curssses and drat, foiled again! Blassst your eyesss, laugh at me now, but you will all pay, pay, and pay! Muhahahaha!" She theatrically rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. That should work for sure."

She pushed aside the goofiness and walked towards her window, exploited a bright midday sunbeam to illuminate and invigorate her frame, and then unwound as she gazed at the radiance of her garden and sparkle in her pond. (A rose is a rose by any other name, and so am I, as little Kuno might have put it.)

ooo000ooo

The great and powerful kick-ass champion Gilgamesh Taro was getting tired of this. The elderly couple, currently tied face-down on the bedroom floor of their metropolitan residence, just would not concede, and their health was in sufficient doubt to prevent him from causing actual injury. He put another needle into a methodically selected meridian. The man grunted, but gave no further acknowledgement of what by now must be nearly excruciating pain. The woman was openly crying, but remained just as steadfast. Taro squashed a sickened itch to spit the wretched animal in her face. "Look, this is nothing personal, and it's getting late for all of us, so why don't you just agree to selling your real estate? It is a reasonable price, and you will be good little nationalists by helping to advance the development of housings for far more citizens. Just sign it over, move to Hawaii and live off the funds. You will stop looking like porcupines and can go to sleep in those comfy-looking beds. Doesn't that sound nice, hmm?" They were weary, but did not yield yet. It was just a matter of time, but incredibly dull.

He really didn't need this crap to pull him down from his cloud. His gamble that the nexus of lunatics would intersect with something useful sooner or later had paid off big, and given him the perfect ally on a silver platter. Provide the saiko komon, so-honbucho, and key wakagashira, with inconspicuous, and to them undetectable, household items tracking every underhanded, cunning Machiavellian scheme or deception. Let the internal rivals "discover" them through subtle hints from anonymous very carefully planted clues or, when necessary, some unnaturally gorgeous courtesans, and set the factions off at each other's throats. Then use the brief destabilisation to grasp command, and continue to monitor all the kobun until the potential liabilities were weeded out. Sharing power wasn't a problem as long as he gained the main spotlight, and had significant use for her resourcefulness, even if she might turn into the main strategist of the operation. He could always organise a Triad with her in open command if she turned discontented from the lack of public acknowledgement. The mainland underworld was not as inherently sexist in structure, and a power struggle was an assured mutual destruction no-no. Of course, he'd have to find ways to tweak or circumvent a few of her boundaries, but that would work out somehow. Not to mention, once she got taste of a real man, she'd definitely come back for more. He'd have the one-woman harem twisted around his fingers for some attention... Almost funny now how his "birth name" used to make him self-conscious about such cushy diversions.

"Is this a bad time?"  
Taro instantly turned, ready for anything.  
Ryuu calmly flashed his badge. It saved some time. Hayato and the psi-ops had apparently struck jackpot with this forecast. The squirt was a useful resource, no doubts about it. At least as long as it involved getting his daily action-fix. Helping to solve the messes was another matter. It took a few misses, but he finally nailed down the most probable location for the supposedly elite Yakuza assassin. If this turned entertaining enough he might have earned a free lunch.  
Taro sniffed. "Shouldn't you be out dealing parking tickets?"  
Ryuu sized up the torturer in front of him. "I thought the name seemed familiar. Duck-boy mentioned you in passing while bragging about "his adventures". The lingerie guy right?"  
Taro was slightly surprised at being recognised by this stranger, but deemed the barb as unimportant. (He'll have to do better than that to get a rise these days) "Not anymore. So what did Daffy come up with?"  
"For once he probably nailed this one. "Arrogant, sadistic, dishonourable ingrate scum" seems about right from where I'm standing. Breaking tied-up people as a hobby is pretty sick even by my standards."  
Taro was bored. Patronisation got very tiresome very quickly. This guy was obviously both NAIVE, and an IDIOT, like all of his kind. Fluffy-headed sickeningly sugar-sweet people were blights on humanity that should be broken, mutilated, crippled, raped in front of their parents or children, and shot in the neck on principle for being so damn nauseatingly annoying and counter-productive. "Yeah, yeah, heard it all before. In the big world the only rule is that there are no rules, so leave it for those who have an idea of what to do with it. I won't tie my hands because some man on the Moon says otherwise, and there is nothing worse than someone who thinks that life owes you any "justice" or "fair play"."  
Ryuu gave the impression of an indifferent old hand that had found some particularly mouldy slime in the refrigerator. "You really can't get it huh?" Apparently some cleaning and disinfectant was in order.  
Taro was getting annoyed. The whiner was trying to act tough. "I'm a visionary beyond the box of your narrow judgement, if that's what you mean. What are you going to do, cry me to death?"  
Ryuu seemed even less impressed. "Pretty damn banal and standardised vision for a psychotic brat with delusions of grandeur, but talk is cheap. Bring it." He beckoned with the fingers of his right hand.

(Oooo! Mister Traffic Policeman wants to play!) "A pleasure." Taro darted forwards, hands poised at guard. This would be almost too easy.  
"Freeze!" Taro was very well trained, and faltered only the tiniest fragment of a second. It was more than enough. "Opening gates blow!" Ryuu split Taro's defence "Frenzied stallion fortified safe splitter!" followed by an instant kick towards the latter's left lower leg "Round hug death!" and a powerful grapple-hold around the torso. Finished, Ryuu let his opponent fall to the ground. "I should probably read your rights. Not that you have any as far as I'm concerned."

Taro clasped his fractured ribs and broken leg, while catching his breath in heavy, uneven gasps. "You bloody hypocrite! You need this just as much as I do! Who do you think you're fooling?"  
Ryuu was completely unfazed, and not even breathing hard. His opponent's overconfidence had made this easier than it should be. Although the lack of versatility also helped. "Nobody, and that's the point. You are all about this smug, sadistic, power-crazed thrill-ride. I'm more of a predator-predator. I use the fury to grow, and there's plenty of scum to take it out on. Now come quietly or I'll have to get rough."  
As Ryuu spoke, Taro forced down the pain and shakily put his right hand inside the corresponding pocket, crushing the small plastic bottle he kept for emergencies. His fist was drenched, and his clothing split before his now several times larger frame. The hurting behemoth swept a massive arm backwards, shattering the flanking outer wall, let the eight backside octopus-tentacles drag him out, and instantly plummeted towards the ground. (Fuck it! Shake it off!) His seemingly undersized wings gradually slowed him down, allowing him to fly erratically away from that damn speck of a cop.  
Ryuu cursed at himself. The brief moment of surprise had made him react too slowly, but that was no excuse, and he couldn't just shoot it down in the open. He would risk either slicing right through occupied buildings, or that the bulk would crush some pedestrians as it fell. He did not look forward to making this report, but took some solace in that the crook certainly wouldn't either.

"Lolololol!111 Pwnage! Oy'm like between roflol and omfg! He got raped so hard it wasn't funny! Stay in the tentacle-porn next time, loser! Scary leather daddy ownzz yo lame ass!"  
"Shut up Hayato."  
"Say: "My Kung-Fu is stronger than your Kung-Fu"."  
Ryuu snorted in derision. "Yeah, that'll happen. Good luck with taping that one."  
"Get over yourself dude. Let's get our freak on."  
"You have an off button?"

ooo000ooo

Taro slammed a palm to the lavish desk in front of him. "Just let me use your best sniper rifles, and a pack of custom-designed, high-calibre, titanium-tipped, armour-piercing, explosive uranium bullets, with a cyanide-payload. I want to break him myself!" His foot and ribs were bandaged-up, but mental discipline of energising essence flows, and the reptile/ octopus components in his unique "cursed" makeup both ensured that he would heal rapidly.  
The older man seated behind it remained completely inexpressive. "I'm sure." The tone was dry enough to make the Sahara desert seem like a water park.  
He recommenced. "However, you represent a valuable enough commodity not to recklessly gamble away, nor undermine your usefulness through severed fingers... at least for the moment." Oyabun Takehiko displayed a very forced, straight, not at all pleasant, "smile".  
"The ESP is intercepting a tiny but growing amount of transactions, and is quickly turning into an unacceptable nuisance. Key operatives are taken into custody at a swifter pace than we can educate replacements, and we have so far been unable to sway political opinion, pierce their defences, or even enter the premises. I have thus presented the commission to a thorough professional... with whom I understand you have some familiarity. I trust that you will respect his authority, and be dedicated to compensate for this dishonourable setback. That will be all."  
He limply motioned with a hand and looked down on his paperwork without acknowledging Taro's presence. The latter had been summarily dismissed.

ooo000ooo

A piercing chorus of screams awakened Taikio from his seated meditation-slumber in the temple's central assembly hall. He rushed towards the adjacent bedchamber housing the reserve night-shift sensitives. The designation had more than one implication.

He was met by a tumult of upset individuals engaged in simultaneous chatter. "Life-death!" "Danger!" "The destroyer comes!" "The despoiler of souls!" "Flee!" Kiyoko was evidently attempting to calm the others down. He brusquely grabbed hold of her shoulder. "What is the problem?"  
Her face was ashen, lacking all signs of drowsiness, with a distant lustre to her eyes. "Listen... the wind is rising... Can you hear the thunder? A storm is coming. That's all I discern. A storm is coming."  
Cloudless heavens howled in affirmation.

ooo000ooo

Nabiki frowned in confusion. "A letter of challenge? Noo... now why would he want to do that all of a sudden?"  
Ranma returned an annoyed stare. "You probably know more about this than you let on."  
His not-so-better half theatrically put a hand to her chest, complimented by a very convincing deer-eyed pout. "You wound me. I'm shocked, hurt, and appalled. Really, you never trust me at all. How about some benefit of doubt once in a while?"  
He crumpled the letter and threw it into the nearest wastebasket. "Benefit is right. I know what you are."  
Nabiki remained the height of poker-faced innocence. (Golly-gosh-darn, you don't say? What could've given it away?) "Well, give him my best when you see him, hear?" She gave him a jovial parting hug, turned into a falcon, and flew out through an open window.  
Ranma sighed. (Just great. Love thy bitch, for she will give you many troubles.)  
He packed some provisions into a backpack, went out, and walked towards the train. Pretty certain that "someone" kept surveillance from out of sight.  
He cheered up. (Whatever. At least something is returning to usual routine. Ryoga may be overly humble and depressing, or an awkward gullible clown, depending on the day of the week, but he's always solid for a good scrap.)

ooo000ooo

Outside the entrance hall to the stop, Ranma instantly identified the hover-girl "greeting", or rather enduring, him as the one pursuing the lost boy some time ago, with the ordinary folks doing their best to ignore her. Nabiki hadn't been willing to tell him much beyond that, though the kinship with Herb was pretty hard to overlook. "Come." She floated away, quickly picking up speed.  
He didn't see many alternatives to simply following along. She seemed to have said her piece, and that was it. He started to spring after her in 50-metre bounds.

Ryoga sat on an outcrop of a rather high, secluded mount, several kilometres away from Akari's place, or his usual sparring-ground, attempting to keep surveillance over the landscape.  
Ranma lightly took foot behind his challenger. Hao Li was already quickly making her departure to far above, leaving the men to their business. "So you wanted a match bacon-breath. Not tired of me thumping your sorry ass yet?"  
The lost boy stood up, not bothering to dust off his dark sweatpants. "I've beaten you around twice as many times, but whatever."  
"Those don't count! They weren't official!"  
"Yeah, sure. It only counts when you say so. If you lose five times in a row, it's over whenever you've managed to score a round..." Ryoga looked serious. "You've been cheating on Akane."  
(Oh crap) "Are you nuts? Have you seen the psychos I have hanging after me?"  
"Her sister told me."  
"...So how come you haven't gone bonkers on me?"  
"Your girlfriend told me that she took the initiative, and that you did your best to resist, and I have other troubles than my temper nowadays... She's really far too good for you."  
"I'll be sure to tell her that." Ranma deadpanned.

"Anyway, she says that it would be best if I am "a friend who explains to Akane, and slap away the wishy-washy, so you'll come out of it" or whatever, but I'm not so sure how she figures that it will do much good."  
"Yeah, you're the expert of wishy-washy all right. So Akane is free pickings... whoop-de-frigging-do! Ring the bells! Why the long face?"  
Ryoga wistfully shook his head. "It's way too late for that, and I think you owe her to handle this yourself... Besides, you kept my secret, so it wouldn't be right to interfere in yours." He stood up. "Move away a little bit. I'll show you something to make this fair."  
Ranma went along. It only helped himself if the gullible jerk wanted to show his cards in advance. "So what will you call this one? The angst-bomb?" He mocked.  
Ryoga's hands started to glow in oddly shifting colours, and he directed a burst of force towards the bedrock. There was a slight tremor in the ground.  
Ranma walked up to him. "That's it? That's your big move?"  
Ryoga simply motioned down.  
Ranma followed the direction with his eyes. There were two hand-sized cylindrical holes in the ground... Ok, so big deal. He offhandedly inspected them. It was way too narrow and darkened inside to gauge the depths. He dropped a small stone, and waited for a final resound... oh... darn.

Ryoga sighed. "I could keep it up for much longer, but that should do it. I can't use them anyway. I always nail you with my regular blasts, and these are the 20-30-metres wide special ones, narrowed down in size. You're pretty tough, but it'd drill right through you, and easily chop up a mountain into slices."  
Ranma blinked. "How did you get that low? Did your dog die and the sky fall down?"  
Ryoga shrugged. "I don't need that any more."  
Ranma was confused. There was something very wrong here. Ryoga was a bit gloomy and dim as usual, yes, but there was more there. And he didn't get silly emotional episodes, daydream and talk to himself, bashfully run around without noticing that he was wrecking anything in his path, start to beat him up in embarrassment, or anything like that... That could be a bit of a problem. His main advantage over the bipolar buffoon lay in goading him into making mistakes.  
Ryoga noticed the dubious gaze. (Here we go again.) He knew that this was coming, but didn't feel like talking about it. "I get rid of most pressure with the blasts. They use everything." That should get to the gist for any busybodies. He gestured towards a few treetops, some hundred metres away. "It'd be better if you moved away a bit more this time."  
Ranma acquiesced, and ricocheted between the trunks in a zigzag pattern until he found a top where he could keep track. Better safe than sorry.  
"Bakusai Tenketsu!" Ryoga simultaneously struck all his ten fingers to the earth. The over 50-metre high hill instantly erupted with a deafening boom, large boulders violently hurtling in all directions.  
Ranma shattered, or redirected, the ones that came too close. It was a tad challenging to keep his balance as his foothold swayed fiercely back and forth. (That idiot! He was downright suicidal after all.) He jumped down to the resulting mound and frantically began to scan for life-signs amidst the rubble.  
"Don't bother." Ryoga gripped Ranma's arm, just as the latter was about to fling away another 40-tonne pebble.

"How did you...? You should have at least felt that! You're not...!"  
Ryoga awkwardly scratched his head. "I suppose that I can't use that one either. Just sparring should be all right though." He motioned with a hand. "Have a go at me. I won't use any specials."  
"No problem." Ranma went all-out from the start, using a barrage of supersonic kicks, punches, sweeps, and occasional aerial flips to get into a better attack angle, but it didn't do much good. Ryoga remained a tad slower as usual, but almost seemed able to read his moves in advance, avoiding or blocking the vast majority, while the ones that slipped through appeared to barely make him flinch. Ranma dearly wished he could say the same. Ryoga landed a slightly higher amount, and they did hurt... a lot. He would go down in moments if this continued. Usually the jerk had some combo of amped toughness, or strength, or blasts, or speed, or attack, or accuracy, or evasion and reflexes, but not all at once, except maybe those times he went into focused "righteous beating" mode. (This is not good.)  
Ranma somersaulted backwards, simultaneously blasted to the side to fell a sizeable tree on Ryoga's head. Intuitively gauged the very brief time it would take the oaf to throw it away and get into the right position. Let his feet take a brief vertical brace towards a massive trunk, hurled himself forward with full force, and readied his hands for a cumulative 1000-blow onslaught for the instant his opponent would heave it away, and briefly expose his jugular. Timing was everything, and the undisputed heir to the Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu was a grandmaster. There! Perfect as always! (The man does it again!)  
Ranma's midriff was snatched a few milliseconds from successful execution, as Ryoga used his extended belt whip, chi-infused to incredible strain tolerance, to slam him to the already shattered ground, chunks of debris flying in all directions from the impact. (Ouch!)

"I haven't just been training by myself lately. I've been coached by experts, just like you always were." Ryoga afforded his briefly dazed opponent the option to get up and continue, rather than proceed. It was an implicit rule during most bouts. This time, rather than taking the offensive, Ranma focused all his attention towards avoiding Ryoga's blows, regulating his aura to dispassionate coolness, leading his rival in a circular motion, moulding the spent heated battle-aura into a spiral, and...  
Ryoga casually blasted his opponent to the ground with a dispersed low-yield output.  
"I thought you said you wouldn't use any special moves!"  
"Just making a point. All right, I don't think it will do any good, but try out the twister if you want."  
(I'll make you choke on that!) Ranma recast his anger into detached ruthlessness and resumed the manoeuvre, executing the sequence flawlessly at nearly unprecedented breakneck pace; all the conditions perfectly set up, threw his arm upward in a corkscrew motion, and reaped the whirlwind.

Ryoga calmly remained standing right beside him. Mirror images of frozen aura, standing untouched in the centre as the insufficiently nourished torrents rapidly fizzled and died down around them.  
"I said that I use any emotions now. Not just pain and rage." Ryoga moved forward, closing the distance at blinding speed, with the slightly surprised Ranma not reacting quickly enough to steer clear.

Ryoga sat on his knees, and kept Ranma down to the side without much effort, locking his rival's wrists behind the back in a lone tight fist. "Ok, this is my usual strength. I'm about 3 times stronger than you are. Any professional wrestler would tell you that unarmed close quarters with those kinds of odds would get you lots of broken bones within moments. You basically have to stay out of reach to survive."  
He stood up and was once more surrounded by an irregular rainbow glow. "This is me when I'm focusing my entire chi in myself. I can't keep it up for very long, but..." His arm darted out towards Ranma's head, gripping it from above and keeping him airborne.  
Hard as he tried, Ranma couldn't budge a single finger. "My full power is stronger than Lime's. I could basically crush your skull to powder without trying."  
Ryoga let go, and despondently looked down. "So I'm having a big problem here. I hate to see you like this. You've really got to do better. Maybe work out ways to keep out of close quarters, and get me from a distance, or start using swords like Mousse?"

"Oh yeah?" Ranma caught the distracted Ryoga in a hammerlock from behind, put his feet against the challenger's back, and tightened it with all the strength his entire body could muster. "So, feeling like giving up yet? I don't care if you're a bit stronger than me, or whatever. There's no way you can break this hold without pulling your arm out of its socket."  
"Actually I can." Ryoga flicked his wrist.  
Ranma was tossed high into the air.  
He flipped upright, revolved multiple times to slow the descent, and landed smoother than a cat, nullifying the momentum with a single toe. "So who cares if you've got a bit better? It's not as if you're hard to beat! You're still just a teeny piggy!" Ranma pulled out the hip flask he carried to drink after exertions, and for makeshift disguises.  
Ryoga seemed alarmed. "Don't do that!"  
Ranma found himself unexpectedly amused. He had the dope on the ropes. Better push the entertainment value. It's not as if he considered this an actual victory, but it was nearly as fun. "Don't do what? This!?" He made a quick throwing motion.  
"No!" Ryoga shirked away.  
Ranma mockingly shook his head. "Psyche. Seriously, who would ever buy that?"  
"It's not funny! Throw that thing away. It's for your own sake too."  
Mister dense actually looked earnest about this, and he was the only person Ranma knew with even worse poker face than himself. He strongly visualised another action, certain that the latter's over-sensitive aura-sense would pick it up. "It looks pretty funny to me... catch!"  
Ryoga jumped into the air to avoid the throw.  
Ranma rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of... let's just get this over with." He unhurriedly flung it towards his still airborne foe. A soft splash of liquid was heard.

Ryoga wasn't there anymore, and neither was the diminutive black piglet.  
A ghostly apparition landed in their place. Iridescent eyes, with irises indistinguishable beneath a permeating shine of whiteness. Monstrous jaws of massive sharp teeth, wide enough to fit the head of a man, fangs the size of daggers, and claws that seemed firmer than steel, entirely pale fur with thin dark stripes, and wispy rainbow-coloured streams of flame haphazardly flowing back and forth as its aura suffused the air.  
It was the biggest tiger Ranma had ever seen, easily over 6 metres long and 2 metres high, larger than a horse, more massive than even Maomolin the Bakeneko, and very, very scary for a hardcore ailurophobe. Ranma lost control, and pounced to shred the hostile creature encroaching on his feline territory.

A massive paw forcefully pushed the belligerent tomcat towards the ground. The great beast bowed its neck, looking into the eyes of its felled prey, ignoring all struggling and air-pressure swipes powerful enough to easily shred trees into splinters. A thunderous roar bellowed from its maw. The kitten's features braced for attack, but then relaxed in comprehension. Its captor grunted, set it free, and tramped away. The conquered feline inquisitively followed its sudden pride senior.

Ranma came to from a stream of hot water to his face. It looked like it flowed by itself from a spherical formation, hovering above the hand of the similarly airborne woman that seemed stuck to Ryoga nowadays.  
"You can't say that I didn't warn you." The clown in question was sitting on a tree stump to the side, once more returned back to normal.  
"I lost it huh? How long was I out this time, and how big is the mess?"  
His rival shrugged. "Just 15 minutes or so, and there isn't much to wreck out here except for even more stone and wood."  
Ranma nodded towards Holly. "So she's keeping track all the time huh? What's up with her and...?" He gulped. "...Not being an oinking hug-toy anymore?"  
Ryoga got something pensive in his eyes. "None of your business, at least not right now. Do you want to continue where we left off? It's been pretty pointless so far..."

That certainly got Ranma's attention. Now the sucker had made the mistake of pissing him off. (Pointless!? Saotome Ranma can't lose! He... retreats, and advances from another angle.) He stood up, more than fully recovered. "Oh yeah, I'd definitely say we will." His aura blazed in ginger determination and crimson fury, as he focused and accumulated his energies.  
Ryoga calmly rose from his seat, but otherwise remained unmoving from his spot.  
(I! Am! Saotome! Ranma! The prodigy! The greatest warrior of his generation! The strength of a hundred thousand men! The speed of a jet plane! The master of the wind-storm! Caller of Shen Long, dragon lords of the skies! I can match any tricks he can come up with! Saotome Ranma can't lose... Saotome Ranma can't lose... Saotome Ranma can't lose... Saotome Ranma can't lose... Saotome Ranma can't lose!) "Hraaaa!" It was the by far strongest discharge he had ever produced, bolstered by his brimming rage, pride, and determination, scorching the air in its path.  
Ryoga calmly stood and let the powerful sphere of chi flow over his aura like streams from a refreshing light spring rain.

No! That would not be it! Never! Ranma's senses expanded. His perception and control was absolute. The sleeve of his right arm ignited into a cloud of ashes. His left shattered into chunks of ice. He focused to his limits and beyond, scorching battle-aura and freezing detachment directed in balanced co-ordination. He took off and raced at an ever quickening pace, encircling his eternal rival. A champion racer would be awed. A sonic boom followed in his path.  
It wouldn't matter if Ryoga adjusted his aura to any state he wished, not if he didn't provide the ignition. The arrogant infuriating bastard was just standing there waiting for his move! The jerk didn't even dignify him with interfering! Howling currents of boiling air swirled around an Arctic core, curving into the centre, moulded into a seamless flow.  
Ryoga didn't budge. Heavy pieces of surrounding wreckage harmlessly bounced off his frame without so much as a flinch.  
Curse him! He had rooted his aura to the ground! (Saotome Ranma can't lose! Saotome Ranma can't lose! Saotome Ranma can't lose! Saotome Ranma can't lose!) The wind turned into a roar as it finally erupted, a twister stretching into the sky, a dragon rising to the heavens, the finger of the gods. He desperately clung to a massive tree, fighting against the sucking air-streams.  
Ryoga evenly noticed that sound had departed with the air, as the core gave way to an empty nothingness. The near vacuum didn't bother him. His essence thoroughly stabilised his entire structure, so he was in no jeopardy of suddenly popping like a balloon, but he still needed to breathe. This might turn into a problem. The widespread great mound of rocks upon which he stood loosened from the earth... any available debris and several massive trees rapidly closing in from more than 40 metres across, surging to balance out the low-pressure cell. He tumbled into the residual cavity and was buried beneath the rubble. (Pretty smart. Using the setting against me...)

The torrent of wind quickly subsided in lack of pressure-differences to sustain it. Within a few minutes, it had completely abated. Ranma panted with heavy gasps. He had been forced to reach for new trees as they were gradually uprooted and he climbed horizontally away from the nexus. (I did it! I really did it! Of course I did! I'm brilliant!) Combining the Hiryu Shoten Ha with the principle intended for the Umisen-ken Deep-sea Wrap had been a master-stroke. Now to dig the sorry so-and-so free, then thoroughly rub it in his nose. (Ha! Saotome Ranma can't lose! I'm the greatest! I'm the king! I'm going to make him so sick of me reminding him!)

The over 20,000-tonne heap of rock began to shake, light shining through the gaps as it inflated from the centre, pulsing and giving way, bursting outwards as Ryoga pushed his aura in all directions. It was a bit swifter than digging.  
Ranma shielded his face from the detonation. (No way! No fucking way!)  
Ryoga dusted himself off, while inhaling blessed huffs of air. (Well, that tickled, but I'll have to work on the suffocation problem.)  
Ranma shrank to his knees, staring vacantly. (He just stood and let me hail at him! And it didn't matter! He didn't even try! He didn't even try!)

Ryoga felt sad. He had respected Ranma as a worthy adversary, and now the latter just seemed like a small dog barking behind a fence again. What should he do now? He always felt very lost whenever this happened. He used his right index and middle fingers to send two tiny blasts to the respective sides of his opponent, causing two cracker-like snaps.  
Ranma reflexively jerked to his feet. "What did you do that for?!"  
"Ok, so you're back to normal... What do we do now?"  
Ranma looked carefully. Ryoga was serious. (He was right... I really can't keep up with him... He's actually more talented than I am... and way more powerful... I have... failed?) He shook his head. "I don't know. I really don't know."

ooo000ooo

Ranma had arrived at home with an unreservedly hollow demeanour. Nabiki patiently listened as she urged him to relay the expected tale. She noticed with intense satisfaction that everything had worked out just as planned. Her life-mate was lost, and thus very, very impressionable to her suggestions. She gave him a comforting hug, and led him to the bath, soothing him with calming words. "There is always someone stronger or better out there. It's the fact of life. What matters is what we get out of it." He would be putty in her hands. She would fill the cavity with whatever she wanted, turn him into a star, drug him with fame, and let him start a celebrity dojo, a real trophy-husband. Life was good.

Ranma felt like crying. Ryoga had offered him a place in Ryuu, Mousse and Holly's alleged gang-up battles as consolation, "to be able to continue honing our skills against each other". Worse yet, the jerk had been genuinely regretful! Barbs he could handle, but this? Gang-up battles, him? The world was ending... At least he had been promised some respite with telling Akane, so things could get sorted out a bit.  
Ranma froze up. He had an idea. A desperate idea he'd never dared, or been in position to try before. He immediately brightened up, turned around, and seized Nabiki by the shoulders, happily whirling her through the air like a petite doll. "You can help me! I can fix this! He hasn't won yet!"  
(Well, whatever. I'll play along if it makes him happy.) "What do you mean dear?"  
"You can transform!"  
(Ok, he's worse off than I thought.) "Yes sweetie... that's what I do."  
"No, I mean you can make me master it!"  
"You'll have to be a taaad more specific... "  
"The C-Cat-fist!"  
(Oh, right. Well, it won't help him in the long run, so why not?) "That's great honey. So one claw at a time then, so to speak, and working our way to tigers?"  
Ranma trembled at the t-word. "Yeah... th-th-th-tha-that's it."  
Nabiki grew some whiskers, elliptical pupils, and fuzzy ears. "Booh!"  
"Yaaaah!" Ranma instinctively lost his grip, jumped into the air and apprehensively stuck to the roof.  
"Sorry precious. Remind me not to do that again." Nabiki smirked to herself. (This should be fun)

ooo000ooo

Coming up:  
Payoff time: The last stand. Crossroad car crash. Boom! Krakka-Thoom!

ooo000ooo


	13. The Boogeyman-Spirit Of Glorified Murder

ooo000ooo

"As one knows the poet by his fine music, so one can recognize the liar by his rich rhythmic  
utterance, and in neither case will the casual inspiration of the moment suffice. Here, as  
elsewhere, practice must precede perfection."

- Oscar Wilde

"The fact is that a man who wants to act virtuously in every way necessarily comes to grief  
among so many who are not virtuous."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

"Whatever is done for love always occurs beyond good and evil."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

ooo000ooo

Oyabun Kurosawa Takehiko had worked overtime, overhearing a greater than usual amount  
of briefings from his saiko-komon advisors and so-honbucho operational chiefs, deliberating  
and imparting his decisions. A considerable amount of wakagashira and fuku-honbucho had  
either been caught in the act of illegal activities, which made them into potential liabilities, or  
failed in their duties, which directly reflected on their superiors. Many severed fingertips had  
been delivered, and in a few extreme cases of ineptitude hara-kiri had been demanded or  
summarily enforced. Operations had been adapted, replacement kubon had been sworn to his  
direct service by ritual sakazuki sake sharing, internal bickering had been dealt with,  
information gathering and assassinations had been arranged, officials had been contacted and  
negotiated with... and so on. Tiring, but necessary.

He entered a more secluded office for a final paper review of daily financial results, suggested  
future enterprises, requested expenses, and breakthroughs in his quite considerable corporate  
empire. He was first and foremost an eminently pragmatic businessman. The ceremonies  
were strictly to maintain an ingrained superstitious cultural and structural loyalty in smaller,  
more fearful, or less disciplined minds. He didn't enjoy having to occasionally resort to  
employing arcane nonsense-mongers, but it seemed to keep some of his employees happy.  
Numbers, strategy, law and practical psychology, these were palpable things he could mould  
into a pattern. He was looking forward to the expansion towards more mainstream business-  
ventures. He could let his eldest son take up the role of Kumicho, to handle the dull  
protection rackets, night-clubs, heroin, pornography or sex-trade trick-girl smuggling,  
gambling, loan sharking, wrestling promotion, rigged contests, and realty market  
enforcement. Takehiko had gained influence in sufficient boards of directors, and even made  
a few outright, but extremely expensive, acquisitions to finally get away from this nonsense,  
and be respected as a competent truly legitimate businessman. Aah, it would be a fitting  
activity and intellectual stimulation for his twilight years.

The room was dark, too dark, ominous to the extent of an almost palpable living, breathing  
thing. Something or someone was concealed within it. Takehiko's eyes intently fixated. He  
did not like uncertainties; they had a habit of turning into crucial liabilities. The permeating  
darkness made the features too murky to discern. Its cloak of shadows only revealed a brash  
satisfied smile of gleaming white teeth, biting a smouldering cigar. The Veteran had arrived.

"This had better be worth the detour. I flew over in a rickety barely glued together space  
shuttle, blindfolded, with my arms tied behind my back, through a black hole, to get here,  
after passing some time blowing up a xenophobic genocidal galactic armada, of solar system-  
sized Dyson Sphere vessels, unarmed, with my teeth." He nonchalantly threw away the old  
cigar, brought out a lighter, and set fire to one of his never-ending supply of replacements.  
"Well, xenophobic and genocidal after I got through with them o'course."

Everything proceeded very swiftly from that point onwards. It always did when The Veteran  
was concerned. After skimming images of all the known ESP officers and succinct briefings  
of their known capabilities, he settled on one picture in particular. He pointed at a serene bald  
man covered by resplendent symbols of mismatched, but strangely appealing patterns. "The  
rest are one-in-a-dozens, but that guy could be trouble."  
Takehiko was almost shocked. "Even for you?"  
"Even for me. I'll take care of him first. It should send the right message."  
"Will you need any assistance?"  
"Nah, but check for some bulky, reinforced, secluded warehouse you're not afraid to lose, and  
clear it out on short notice."  
The Veteran blew some smoke in Takehiko's face. "See, I'm just here as a favour for a little  
pal of mine, and I'm a very busy man, so don't waste my time."  
The sacrosanct Oyabun Muramasa Takehiko was not accustomed to take orders from  
anybody, not even high-level politicians or monarchs of industry. He could get to anyone,  
anywhere. It was his fundamental job description. This man he unswervingly obeyed without  
thinking. He made a few calls, not even noticing that his guest was nowhere to be found.

ooo000ooo

Muramasa Taikio leapt and sprinted around the buildings and area surrounding the manor he  
had inherited from his father, currently honouring the latter by being committed to a most  
worthy task. Many times too swift to perceive for a normal man, he kept scanning for  
potentially overlooked or sudden intrusions. It was a regular routine patrol, performed once  
every hour day and night, entrusted to and alternated in shifts between Ryuu, himself, and  
their 12 most trusted adepts, who nonetheless had been resolutely instructed to cover it in  
pairs. Constant vigilance had become of absolute necessity.

Taikio was worried, not for himself of course, but he had a great responsibility to his  
esteemed colleagues, even more so than to the public welfare. He had started this  
organisation, and nobody would die on his watch because they believed in his dream. Never.  
He was aware that it was a naïve aspiration, but he would never falter so much as an inch.

The sensitives were incredibly upset, and Kiyoko wasn't much better off. It was not easy on  
her to soothe them under such circumstances. They had woken up screaming in alternating  
cycles several times for the past week, including the ones bedded in their own homes  
throughout the first episode. He had immediately taken steps to see to that they were all  
safely hosted at the temple until the crisis was over, and were housed in separate soundproof  
chambers to ensure that they could sleep in intervals without awakening each other. They had  
been given blocks and pencils to write down any remembered information. Almost nothing  
had come up beyond what was revealed during the first occasion. A great looming shadow,  
tempest, or thundercloud covering the horizon, far greater than the eyes could measure. A  
seemingly impenetrable mucky acid eating everything in its path, with desolation, corpses,  
beasts, and unrestrained savagery left behind wherever it had passed.

In lack of better options, Taikio had commanded that all active officers should return and stay  
at the headquarters until further notice. It was the first time he had used his authority in such  
a manner, and he much preferred to allow the organisation greater flexibility than one man  
could impart, but he didn't consider himself to have a choice in this matter. Something was  
very, very wrong. All precognitives and analysts worked extra time to find information about  
similar patterns, or current terrorist- and Yakuza activities, while the mystics simultaneously  
further strengthened the defences, if possible, and very carefully probed for supernatural  
incursions. Chi-adepts and combat espers trained en masse, or in squads against himself and  
Ryuu, to find ways to deal with overwhelming enemies through efficient teamwork, while  
being coached in the usage of powerful specified artillery. Trimming them to be on the ready  
for go into battle or defend the public at the slightest alert. He would not fail them. Never.

Thankfully, no significant other threats had been signalled or appeared so far, at least not  
beyond what the regular forces could handle, and naturally they were automatically supplied  
with what information the ESP could provide.

He paused before the entrance. It was the scheduled time to let another team handle the next  
three hours. No danger had been detected, but that was not reassuring. He focused a host of  
senses, honed and amplified from their natural state or provided otherwise. There! A hole in  
the pattern! He span and unsheathed his consecrated swords in a single motion, staring at the  
corner of the house across the road. Nothing was there except the unlit shadows.  
The darkness spoke. "You're everything I thought and then some. I actually tried this time."  
Taikio intensified all sources of revealing radiance at his disposal, directing his full capacity  
towards the clouded spot. The light would not dispel it. He unloaded several salvos of first-  
rate exorcist shells of shifting qualities in less than half a second, refastened the shotgun to his  
back, and caught his right blade in mid-flight, less than an inch lower than he left it: Still  
negligible effect.  
The voice continued unabated, as if it hadn't even noticed. "Do you fear the gloomy midnight  
hours, boy? Just welcome those pesky little urges that tingle in your ear, but you'd rather not  
admit, and you will be the fear."  
Taikio didn't falter in the slightest, or so much as twitch. "I walk in the light, and am no  
longer a child. I have met the creatures that go bump in the night. They offer me no terrors."  
A chuckle of genuine amusement was heard. "Stupid. Very, very stupid." Then a brief pause  
"You took your while. I've been eating a bento while I waited. There are some leftovers.  
Want it?"  
There existed no doubt in Taikio's mind that this was incredibly serious.  
"No? Some of you righteous guys can be quite a bore at times. Just take a few moments to  
enjoy a ham sandwich every now and then, that's what I always say."  
Taikio discerned some chomping sounds.  
"Now that's what I call food. Eat one every day and you'll live to be 2000 at least. Take it  
from one who knows."  
Taikio was poised, assessing multiple lines of attack. He did not mistake the jovial tone for  
lack of awareness.  
"Of course that's kind of a moot point for you, isn't it?"  
There was something wrong with the air.  
"See, I dropped some pellets with really potent ingredients right behind you, just before we  
started chatting. Your guard is actually pretty good. I had to go through my old camping bag  
for them. Rare mythic stuff, you know the sort. I figured, hey some of them should get  
through, right?"  
Taikio observed his deadened legs giving way, and fell to his knees.  
The darkness gave way to a glinting perfect grin. "Tough luck. You stretched your eyes a  
teeny bit too late. Otherwise this might have turned interesting."  
Taikio felt a wire tightening around his throat, cutting off the oxygen. Then he didn't sense  
anything.

ooo000ooo

Taikio come to from a splash of water to his face. He immediately noticed an unfamiliar man  
placing an emptied bucket on the floor. He was completely clear-headed, as he had been  
trained to be, no matter the circumstances, and quickly scrutinized and analysed his situation  
and surroundings.

A rough, muscular, ostensibly military man of unreadable nationality; good-humoured  
expression indicates unchanged antagonist; demonstrated as immensely dangerous: Check.  
Empty closely sealed building with thick walls and iron fortification: Check.  
No external light but metabolism implies 2 hours past capture. Middle of the night, rescue  
unpromising: Check.  
Body suspended; arms held outstretched in taut chains firmly fastened to the roof, and legs  
identically secured to the floor: Check.  
Test tensile strength. Not steel, much harder; can't break. Colour indicates silver? Doesn't  
make sense: Multiple runes: Clever, using my own forte against me. Focus.  
Blades dropped within sight. Bond unchanged. Calling them to break me free: No result?  
Scanning the planes for assistance: Cut off beyond this area. Almost blinded.  
Mind melding with shackles and shields: Successful.  
Searching and negotiating harmony, while unravelling the lattices: Impending success interval  
required: Far too protracted.  
Unacceptable: Internalising energy from limiting immediate area. Moulding pattern for  
encouragement to draw upon a widening net: Partial success. Unknown  
disturbance/interference ensures slow reaction.  
Stronger connection/Intentional/Unconscious? Probe: Two or all options. Focus: Energised  
and highly accelerated process but prognosis remains unacceptable.  
Exert counter-harmonic, destabilising hostile pattern: Incredibly strong, immensely wide, but  
very different from my own: Not quite suited to impede me, not entirely unaffected.  
Conclusion: Eventual success, dependent on conscious effort from hostile presence. Best  
prospect: 5 minutes. Demonstrated mastery of stalling ascertained: Overt efforts would draw  
attention: Keep quiet. Be very careful. Don't set off traps or alarms.  
Following options: Too dangerous opponent. Chance of success without preparation almost  
non-existent: Flee to nigh-impenetrable shielding: Undergo ritualistic empowerment: Arm  
with host of suitable artefacts against now scrutinised threat.

The Veteran observed his prisoner with genuine curiosity. "Waall boy, gots ta say I'm  
mightily impressed. Those are sum fancy-schmancy tattoos ya got sportin' there. Crucifix  
armour thrice-blessed with holy water by da Opus Dei; Ev'ry Shinto ward 'gainst evil known  
ta man; Melted down ritual-enchanted lucky cats, gads, bodhisattvas, draguns an' frogs;  
Ancient sacred sutras from hidden lamas; Dreamtime, Native American, an' Loa symbols  
from undertaken spirit quests; Eldritch runes; Presence traces o' da gaddiss descendin' before  
Aleister Crowley, an' jest 'bout ev'ry major lei-line junction or empowered spot on da planet;  
Sum mighty fine work by Chaos Magic hipsters an' Kabala mystics; Chi realigned by  
thorough acupuncture, temple fastin' an' meditations in da eightfold path; Melted down  
totemic an' consecrated relics from all corners o' da world; Why I might even sniff a touch o'  
Anansi da trickster in there. Heck, ya got stuff even I don't know 'bout, an' lemme tell ya  
that's really sayin' sumethin'..."

Taikio briefly considered why his subjugator had opted to switch from flawless Japanese to an  
odd light mixture of English dialects, but he discarded it as a personal joke, nothing more, and  
nothing less, and Taikio was conversant in many languages. The inquisitiveness worked in  
his favour. Focus.

The Veteran ponderingly shook his head. "Ya oughta be proud mate, on a way turnin' yerself  
into a darn-tooting real-McCoy archetype there. Sum young punk thinkin' he's darned clever  
an' got ev'ry angle covered ta fool da old man." He paused and calmly took out the ever  
smoke-belching cigar, puffing a few rings into the air.  
"Now... I'll admit that normally that jest might constitute a bit o' a problem. Why, ya could  
even get through mah defences; maybe bring me down if I had a really bad day.  
Unfortunately baby boy..." He blew a cloud of smoke into Taikio's face. "I'm mach older  
an' better at this game'n ya'll ever get a chance ta be, an' there jest ain't room fer both o' us  
'round here."  
He loosened a sword from the arsenal strapped to his back. "Now this here might jest be a tad  
familiar in these parts." He struck it deep into Taikio's left lung. "It's called Kusanagi-no-  
Tsurugi, da Grasscutter."

(He waited until just before I would break free!) "You're a monster." Taikio faintly wheezed,  
blood dribbling from his mouth. A chaos-factor had been added to his pattern. Try again.  
Almost done. Focus. Compensate. Focus.  
The Veteran spat some chewing-tobacco on the floor. "Naw, I'm jest a good ol' soil o' da  
Earth patriot, fer whatever nation or cause I'm doin' this week." He loosened another. "An'  
jest in case yer non-Shinto wards might keep ya alive an' heal ya from that." He impeccably  
mirrored the act to the right. "This is called Excalibur. It should take care o' da Christian an'  
faerie charms. I've got quite a little collection, if I may say so myself. It's a grand ol' hobby  
o' mine. I've melted a few o' them down into guns an' such, but no worries, there's more'n  
enough left."  
Sparkles glimmered before Taikio's eyes. Another one, but he was so close. When he broke  
free he would mostly recover almost right away. He could do this. There. Just a few more  
pushes, just a few more strings... focus.  
The Veteran slapped his prisoner in the face. "Now don't ya pass out on me yet ya sissy. I  
got lots more famous crap ta entertain ya with... probably more'n ya even heard o'..."  
He took off the unusual backpack, and scrutinised the blades, thoughtfully picking out and  
weighing them up one by one, testing the balance in his hands, and making a few playful  
experimental swings. Finally selecting a pair he seemed satisfied with. Holding them before  
Taikio's exhausted half-closed eyes. "Now here's da prides o' Lu Dongbin an' Le Loi. I'm  
not rightly sure if da first one'll work but we'll find out soon, won't we? Then we'll get ta  
Kladenets, Shamshir, Gram, Fragarach, an' plenty more ta come."

Taikio reassessed the circumstances. The fiend was going to insert another weapon into his  
body in virtual rhythm with his progress. Dangling hope before his eyes just to snatch it away  
at the last moments, and gradually wearing him down until it was over, but he would not let  
this butcher slaughter his friends, his fellow dreamers, his substitute family. Never. One of  
them would be chosen to serve as protector in his stead. One of them would collaborate with  
the others to succeed where he had failed. He dearly hoped the selection would be quicker  
than expected. There was so little time... he had thought a few days would be enough.  
Stupid! Focus. Nudge it. Focus. Speed it up. Focus. Not enough. Focus. "Life...  
freedom... truth... courage... honour... joy... beauty... compassion... kindness... love...  
temperance... fulfilment... faith... justice." Taikio's whisper was almost too low to hear, but  
the runes covering his skin commenced to glow and unwind. Swirling around his body and  
scattering as streaks of light, to reassemble at an unidentified location.

The Veteran took out his cigar and evenly watched the display. "Ya got more guts'n I gave  
ya credit fer. Leavin' yerself exposed jest so sumebody else could take up da duty." He  
interlocked his hands and straightened them forward, palms front, to work out some kinks.  
"O'course, that means we can have even more fun."

ooo000ooo

Taikio was found late the next morning. Forensics had to identify the remnants by DNA tests.  
He was delivered on a stretcher to ESP headquarters, for potential further investigation in  
matters outside of their area of expertise.

The report established that he had somehow been kept alive for several hours as he slowly  
bled to death, kept awake by drugs they could only begin to classify. His teeth, nails and eyes  
removed by pliers. His limbs gradually chopped off slice by slice with the stumps speedily  
seared to prevent instant demise, burns from fire and acid covering every inch of his body, or  
what remained of it, and eventually drowned in his own blood from a slashed throat. Taikio,  
the holy warrior, the invulnerable rune-soldier, the unstoppable sword of light piercing any  
tides of darkness, looked very vulnerable and extremely dead.

Ryuu, hardened as he was, instantly threw up as he saw the remains. (I don't know squat. I  
really don't.)  
Kiyoko was inconsolable. "Even his brain was carved out! Who could want to do such a  
thing?"  
Hitomi was already working overtime to find out more, having taken temporary firm  
command of the psychics, mystics, and analysts, in the absence of certified authority.  
Ryuu offhandedly wiped off his mouth with his right sleeve. He hesitantly refrained from  
comforting the crying warden. Mushy stuff wasn't his strong suit. He would likely just  
worsen it. "Sometimes I think "growing up" means having no tears left to give," he muttered.

"Um..."  
Apparently Hayato wouldn't leave his chamber even for happenings right next door. "At least  
it finally shut you up..." There was unshakeable steel in Ryuu's eyes. "The conceited bastard  
has thrown down the gauntlet... I'll nail this cop-killing ass-wipe."  
"Well suckage, but you know, cheer up, it's all good. He just met a bigger predator, didn't  
want to win enough, or chose to let go. It's all a de rigueur natural process. Hyuh-hh-hff,  
"nail him"."  
"I'm really considering making your insensitive ass intimately familiar with the natural  
process."

"I thought so."

There had been a sticker pasted to Taikio's exposed skull-bone. "Don't mess with the big Y.  
Same place, 12 hours. Bring me your best. No shitting. We'll do this upfront. Don't try to  
be sneaky. I'm only nice once. V." And it had been approximately 10 hours since Taikio  
passed away, was discovered, identified, went through some bureaucracy, and then  
unceremoniously dumped at their doorstep... too slow, way too slow.  
Hitomi was perplexed. "But why? Why a formal challenge, and at the same spot? They've  
shown that they can just pick us off one-by-one."  
Simply stating that Ryuu looked grim would be the understatement of the year. "A warrior  
would understand. They want to strike the point home. Nobody should dare to pick up the  
torch."

Ryoga swallowed when Ryuu relayed the situation per telephone. This was really sick.  
"Yeah, sure I'll lend a hand, but I can't find you that fast. I'd need a week at least to make  
it."  
It had been half an hour until Ryuu had finally got a hold of him. After he explained the  
urgency Akari had sent both Holly and her trained sumo-pigs, to track and retrieve her fiancé  
from the neighbouring forest... where the latter had unwillingly walked in random circles for  
the last 2 hours, intent on "making Akari proud of him" by finding his way back by himself.  
Ryuu was definitely not in the mood to be patient with his, technically handicapped, and  
usually well-intended, but currently awfully annoying sort-of buddy. "Oh shut up! I'm so  
fucking tired of your goddamn neuroses! They got Taikio all right? Taikio! He looks like  
something out of a meat factory! Like it or not, you're the strongest guy I know who's still  
alive, and I can't reach the cross-dresser or the ugly duckling. I don't have time dammit! I'm  
using a last resort government sanction to call you in as a temporary officer under my  
command. Now grow a set, and just tell that flying antique of yours that we all know and  
loathe to get you here fast, that's an order!" Ryuu shut down the connection.

"Preachy! Preachy!"  
"Shut up Hayato, just shut up. I need to think."

Hao Li gently lowered Ryoga to the ground outside of the gate about 30 minutes afterwards,  
whispered something in his ear and flew off. It was not her place to interfere when the men  
went to war. She was Dragon, Hao Long Li. She had honoured her designated for over 400  
years, but would do her duty, no matter how painful it might be. If he fell her obligation  
bound her to await the arrival of another. The lineage must survive.  
Ryoga briefly followed her path with his eyes.  
Ryuu thought that he caught something vaguely wistful or contemplative in that look. "What  
did she say?"  
Ryoga didn't move. "Die well. She said: "Die well"."  
Ryuu irritably punched a large hole in a nearby stonewall. "Oh that's brilliant! That's  
inspiring! Now I'm brimming with confidence! At least I hope you finally got it through that  
thick skull of yours to not hold back on me? Go all out from the start and take this guy down  
hard, even if you have to blow up a few mountains to do it!"  
Ryoga solemnly nodded.

ooo000ooo

Four minibuses drove towards the appointed spot. The Ry-duo was accompanied by any elite  
chi-users, or high-level psi-ops the ESP could dredge up on so short notice, carrying the most  
powerful, practically useful, combat-oriented artefacts in their arsenal. As assigned squad-  
leader, Ryuu mentally inspected his available troops. He well knew their full capabilities, but  
even with weapons they individually all fell far short of him, and Ryoga might be able to  
handle all of them together... It would not be enough unless he came up with a plan quick, but  
he didn't know what to expect. Whoever, or whatever this was, it took down Taikio... that  
meant it could get through the defences of practically anyone, or anything.

As they entered the empty storehouse, there was a very small group awaiting them by the  
opposing wall. Some hardy-looking goons with machine guns encircled Taro in the front.  
The latter was glaring at Ryuu with unmitigated hatred, but Ryuu disregarded them as  
obvious window-dressing. There was something else in the room, a presence so intense and  
overwhelming that all his instincts screamed, pushed, prodded, and pleaded that he should  
flee and leave the country, or better yet the planet. A muscular, unshaven, bare-chested,  
smoking man in army khakis and a plain leather jacket stepped forward from the rear. He was  
unarmed save for two seemingly ordinary colts Magnum strapped to his belt. There was  
something extremely eerie about the ceaseless smile on his face.

Ryuu noticed that the adversary was eating from a skewer spearing a very unusual-looking  
lump of meat covered in an odd mixture of barbecue-sauce, beans, syrup, and coconut butter.  
("Even his brain was carved out...") An Arctic chill went down his spine, nearly freezing it to  
ice. (Psychological warfare, just psychological warfare... No... He doesn't need the  
advantage... He thinks it's funny to watch me squirm...)

The Veteran playfully winked at Ryuu. "Animals feed on other animals kid. You mind  
telling nature the difference?" He neglectfully flung away the stick, and gestured rearwards  
with his right palm. "Fall back boys. Let an old pro' show you youngsters how it's done."  
(Fall back boys. Let an old pro' show you youngsters how it's done.)  
If it was anyone else Taro would very likely have ignored the order, but he reluctantly  
complied. He put on his most smug, spiteful, and in-your-face obnoxious smirk,  
demonstratively held out an IPhone, and hit "record". This one should give him warm and  
fuzzy feelings for many years to come.

Ryuu didn't feel like waiting around for the first move. "I thought I told you to take this  
seriously!?" He snapped over his shoulder.  
Ryoga looked confused. "What do you? ...Oh." He jadedly accepted a very familiar splash of  
water, and was instantaneously replaced by the gigantic Siberian Tiger, eyes shining as his  
aura intensified beyond even its usual level."

"By the power of..."  
"Shut up Hayato, and get me someone else. You're not useful." Ryuu scanned the scenery,  
keeping track of the developments. Any unexpected movements or signs of an ambush would  
be summarily dealt with.

Ryoga shone like a small sun, accumulating a titanic cascade of force. He let loose a primal  
roar. Focusing the build-up towards the still carefree and amused, soon to be vaporised,  
Veteran. The blast was set to emanate, but instantly rippled, fizzled, simultaneously curved  
inwards and detonated in all directions, as an explosive feedback-loop centred on Ryoga  
himself. Comatose, the tiger fell hard to the ground. It had never happened before, and  
wasn't the least bit feasible, but "implausible" was one of The Veteran's numerous middle  
names.

The Veteran once again took out his cigar, and blew a large puff of smoke. "Well, colour me  
impressed. It's been a few generations since I saw that kind of power from your typical chi-  
generator, but boy oh boy do you have to work on your aim." (Well, colour me impressed.  
It's been a few generations since I saw that kind of power from your typical chi-generator,  
but boy oh boy do you have to work on your aim.)  
He walked straight across the massive tiger, calmly wiping his soles on its pelt, as if the fallen  
powerhouse was unworthy of notice, and lightly tapped the cigar with a finger to release some  
ashes into Ryoga's face as it were. "I'll have some fun with you later boy. Better wake up  
soon, or it will be over real quick." (I'll have some fun with you later boy. Better wake up  
soon, or it will be over real quick.)

The nonchalant gesture wasn't lost on Ryuu, who had to fight off another intense shiver. At  
least the tactic had given one of the units enough cover to set up some of their gears, but the  
analysis boys needed more time. "Spray him!" Another division of ESP officers let loose  
streams of liquid from hoses wedged to canisters carried on their backs, ideally transmitting  
assorted mixtures of extremely lethal, infectious, and swift-acting poisons, bacteria, and viral  
agents. However, along their path the components spontaneously decided to either turn  
perfectly adapted to chemically neutralise any available contenders, alternately mutated and  
evolved into strains that would have been hopelessly outmatched against a 129-year old  
leukaemia patient in the final hours, which, all in all, was quite the lucky break for the  
unconscious Ryoga. Naturally this was a moot point.

By the time the currents had reached the spot where The Veteran had to all appearances been  
positioned, he was now discovered to have miraculously survived out of range from the  
certain death trap, holding a toothpick, radiating charisma, and remaining in complete  
command of the situation. "No moxie. No guts. No spirit. No chutzpah. Ain't got what it  
takes. That's the problem when any agents of oppression come up against a man with  
freedom pumping from his heart." (No moxie. No guts. No spirit. No chutzpah. Ain't got  
what it takes. That's the problem when any agents of oppression come up against a man with  
freedom pumping from his heart.)

Ryuu forced it aside. He grabbed the officer closest to himself. "You there! Why haven't the  
snipers already made short work of this son-of-a-bitch?"  
"Apparently the snipers have all shot themselves in the head, sir!"  
"How the fuck did they manage that? They use intelligent ammunition! It custom-locks on a  
pre-selected target only!"  
"Yes sir! We don't understand it either, sir!"

Ryuu was not having a good day. He spoke into his minimised headset, while The Veteran  
was indulging in some hot cocoa. "Give me some data fast!"  
"Bad, bad news!" Hitomi's voice, uncharacteristically shaken. "We can't get a human  
reading on him at all, just images of tidal waves, hurricanes, earthquakes, erupting volcanoes,  
moving glaciers... forces of nature! It's an avatar!"  
"Fuck! How do we handle that?"  
"We don't! Don't you get it? It's a sentient idea! He's connected to everything, to causality!  
The entire universe is working on his side!"  
"Get a hold of yourself! Can you cut off his connection? Make it loose track? Trick it? Shift  
it around?"  
"I don't know. Maybe for a few seconds if we all chip in, and use your on-site equipment as a  
focus."  
"Then get to it. I'll stall him. Once you get an opening, yell."

Ryuu kept bouncing around at full speed in irregular intuitive patterns, several hundred miles  
an hour, trying to instil confusion by launching a myriad of aerial ripples behind him as he  
went. Each of them directed around, but not towards, the calmly cigar-smoking killer, hoping  
against hope that the defences wouldn't activate if he didn't directly attack, that the killer  
would be restricted to his own flawless aim, that the latter's comparatively slow speed would  
win precious minutes, as the revolvers scattered barrages of bullets following his path. Was  
the man playing with him? Four bullets graced each of his respective legs at precisely  
corresponding spots. They shouldn't have gone through, but they did. Damn, it hurt. Push  
on. Two more. He was getting slower. He wanted to shove that grin down the bastard's  
throat so bad. Another pair went straight through his heels. He lost his footing, tumbling  
into, and crushing some aluminium crates.

"Now! There's a karmic facsimile to his right! The link is disoriented! We can't hold it!  
Go!" Ryuu didn't register past the first word, sweeping his arms and aiming for a narrow  
path, straight towards the gunslinger.

Time suddenly dilated to slow motion for everyone present, every scarce moment extended a  
hundredfold. The blades struck The Veteran in unison, straight through chest, ribs and  
marrow, like they weren't even there. Blood spurting whilst a titan among titans toppled  
towards the floor, as if choreographed to instil maximised melodrama.

Taro gaped in astonishment. (That's impossible! I've seen him take down guys who'd chew  
up and spit out this runt for breakfast! He always wins… Always!) He rushed forward to the  
spot where his mentor... his father lay dying before his eyes.  
The Veteran glanced at his protégé with undaunted, slightly amused eyes. "The lucky  
number's up kid, but hey you know it. I'll always be back." (The lucky number's up kid, but  
hey you know it. I'll always be back.)  
The Veteran playfully winked and did a thumbs-up. "All right trooper, keep up the good  
fight, make an impact, face it like a man, always look good, gladly die a thousand deaths  
rather than let your honour be stained, and do it laughing, got it?" (All right trooper. Keep up  
the good fight, make an impact, face it like a man, always look good, gladly die a thousand  
deaths rather than let your honour be stained, and do it laughing, got it?) He showed no signs  
of perspiration, trembling voice or less than jovial tone.  
Taro swallowed. "Yes sir!"  
The Veteran grinned even wider than previously. "Good soldier, good man. Godspeed. See  
you around." (Good soldier, good man. Godspeed. See you around...) He  
stopped talking, but still looked as alive as ever, frozen in an iconic sunshine smile, as a  
reminiscent, fading brown & white photograph that would haunt anyone for a lifetime.

Urd released her finger from the "delete" button. "Sorry, but this just wasn't your story."  
Any other goddess would get in enormous trouble for hacking into the parasitic counterpart  
demonic system, much less undoing one of her mother's most valued and reliable champions,  
but Urd was exactly aware of her position, and it was about time it turned remotely beneficial.  
Ryuu's tactic might have worked with decades-long preparations, but a cobbled together  
quick-fix? Not so much. Sadly the archetype would soon be reborn in another incarnation.  
Mankind would never let him die.

Taro stifled the tears itching in his eyes. Sissy-boy manners were unworthy to shame this epic  
moment. He could offer prayers later. The Veteran was dead. Debts had to be paid. The  
soul of the killer would rest in peace. (No more Mister Nice Guy!) He unfastened the lid from  
his hip flask, poured it over his head, and bellowed towards the heavens in a guttural howl  
shaking the foundations of the building. They were all going down hard.

Ryuu finally managed to recover from the inexplicable paralysis that had held him in check.  
To find himself facing a berserk infernal-looking 6-metre behemoth with frothing mouth and  
bulging eyes, wildly charging and striking anything within reach, its power doubled by sheer  
fury, and ploughing through a barrage of vacuum-blades like the scratches didn't even  
register, fully intent to squash Ryuu beneath its hooves.

Taro felt exhilarated as he pushed closer towards his foe. His cause was just, and his heart  
was true. Nothing was important beyond avenging his mentor, to teach this upstart the  
meaning of true power, honour and loyalty. The instrument of justice would see him pay for  
his crimes in oh so much blood, and pain, and death. Then he would wipe out everyone the  
speck ever knew, ever worked with, or ever meant anything to him. He would never have  
existed, while The Legend would live on forever.

Ryuu looked back towards his men. "Everybody get out! Now!" Thankfully they were well  
trained enough to react almost immediately, quickly moving towards the exit while two of  
them hauled a now human but groggy Ryoga over the shoulders. Regardless, Ryuu had no  
choice, and he hated himself for thinking the thought, but they would all die within moments  
anyway. He sprang after them and let loose another barrage in mid-flight, this one directed  
towards all walls and support-pillars within the locale, striking true with flawless aim. As  
planned, the building collapsed, centred straight on the monster.

Taro dug himself out as swift as he could manage, effortlessly removing thousands of tons of  
wreckage. His body was ached and bruised, possibly sporting another set of broken ribs, but  
he was part snake, part octopus, and part yeti. It would heal quickly. He would not be  
denied. His flunkies hadn't been nearly that lucky. He reached a beam of light, blinking to  
adjust from the darkness and swept aside the final debris to free his torso. "Iron fang  
fingers!" The beast roared in agony, arms and tentacles striking wildly in all directions, as  
blood gushed from its solar plexus. "Fierce tiger opening gates blow!" It gasped and gurgled  
as its jugular was violently pushed backwards. "Poison snake deep hole blow!" The chest  
was hurting... bad. He was getting a bit dizzy. It was harder to move. He had to get his  
lower hooves free. Then he'd stomp this asshole into paste. All went black.

Ryuu picked up his cell phone. "Officer Kumon, ESP sanctioned priority. I've got a major  
piece-of-shit perp bleeding to death over here. Check the GPS coordinates, possible witness  
protection. Special case, bring hot water. No time to explain." He hung up. "You're real  
lucky to be so damn bulky that I didn't burrow all the way to your heart. You might even  
survive." Not expecting an answer, he took a quick glance towards his unit, previously  
keeping a safe distance, but currently approaching. Everybody seemed to have made it out  
more or less all right. Everybody left alive after that butcher got through with him or her, that  
is. He spat at the filth lying on the ground. "Did you expect me to "play fair", to take any  
pointless risks when my unit was on the line? Idiot. Stupid! Fucking! Idiot!" He heatedly  
kicked at it, hazily noticing that his foot was hurting and covered with coagulated blood. "I  
should kill you, I really should, and good riddance, but it's against the protocol."  
"Ha! Bitchin! Fucking hardcore! What a douche. He's not going to mess with us again!  
Mad dogs need to be put down on sight!"  
Ryuu exhaled. At least some things never changed. "Starting with you Hayato?"

It was getting dark. The other officers chattered about some irrelevant matter. Ryuu caught  
the words "Kiyoko" and "strange patterns", but it didn't interest him. He was tired. He had  
declined unnecessary offers of treatment, but might need to rest. It had been a few hours.  
Clarifications had been given to involved regular authorities, alarmed pedestrians had been  
calmed, and reporters had been briefed about the standard special-situation strict government  
directives to not create uproar, and keep any articles to brief matter-of-fact curiosity pieces.  
They were getting ready to leave, shipping away Taro for treatment and a special holding  
cell. Ryuu remained atop the rubble, looking at the waning Sunset. He took a swig of beer,  
Taikio's favourite brand. "Here's to you bro."

ooo000ooo

Coming up:  
Aftermath. Loose ends. A line in the soil.

ooo000ooo


	14. A Line in the Soil

ooo000ooo

"The promise given was a necessity of the past: the word broken is a necessity of the present."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

"The most spiritual human beings, assuming they are the most courageous, also experience by far the most painful tragedies: but it is precisely for this reason that they honour life, because it brings against them its most formidable weapons."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

"The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future."

- Oscar Wilde

"The whole idea is to kill the bastards. At the end of the war, if there are two Americans and one Russian, we win."  
- Thomas S. Power

ooo000ooo

Nabiki reflected on the just acquired news. Apparently the wannabe had been involved in some foolishly conspicuous power-grab confrontation, against a social institution no less, and obviously got arrested for the efforts. It just went to show that a leopard never lost its spots, even with a decent paint-job, and high-class fitness club membership.

She shrugged. Well, whatever. He was obviously way too predictable for his own, and far more importantly her good. She was a winner, and always landed on her feet. She didn't enjoy burning bridges, but well knew when to cut her losses for other options, and hey, independence was always preferable anyway... A shame though, under her thumb he might have become a player.

She had also acquired an entertaining hobby. Methodically scaring Ranma silly at his own urging, and for a pointless reason, did have a certain charm. It would succinctly hammer home the futility of his cause, and he would soon acclimatise to, and heartily embrace her far more sensible ambitions as a personal lifeline. Of course it was a bother when he sliced her safari target practices to pieces, but soothing him in her lap, to bring him back from the brink of psychosis, served to cultivate fundamental trust, whether he admitted it or not. Taro's assistance in other matters would have been a very pleasant bonus but hardly crucial to her intents. (It's so nice to help and spend some quality time together, although I dearly wish I didn't have to upset him. And it's probably best for the public safety that the poor confused boy is kept away, but it would be nice if he could be helped and saved through rehabilitation and therapy... bullcrap and sentimental nonsense! Force it down. Don't lose sight of who I am...)

Her unlisted "special occasions" pay-card phone started to ring on her desk, a gift from merc-boy, to be continuously substituted to remain untraceable. He had been a bit quicker than anticipated. "Yes, this is the Hayashi theatre-group..." He had selected "forest" as default... Oh my, how terribly droll and witty.  
"Hello, this is Matsuoka Taro. We spoke earlier about a well-paid performance for our company. We have met some unexpected complications recently, some unfounded accusations from the law I'm afraid, but a less up-scale private performance would be very appreciated under such dreary conditions. We have nothing but free time for the moment." The voice sounded awful, raspy, and wheezing out every syllable, like even talking was a severe effort.  
("Hill covered with pine trees"? Don't flatter yourself. I'm quite beyond your league.) "I'm afraid that we thus far are a somewhat undersized company of a limited budget, and some actors don't have the necessary experience to perform under unusual conditions without falling out of character. This was clarified between us during our last meeting."  
"Well, I would truly appreciate it if you could find some time in your schedule and adapt to the circumstances. The reimbursement would naturally be multiplied beyond the original agreement. We value company morale above all else, and would regularly employ your services."  
"Are there any further instructions about modifications in the intended script, that I might retrieve somewhere? Preferably with some additional information about the arrangement in your current housing?"  
"Of course. I have a knowledgeable associate, who originally informed me about your services. He has a somewhat uncouth demeanour, but do not let this sway your feelings. He is a craftsman, a professional well-used to discretion, and will attempt to reach you in the near future."  
"I will certainly evaluate it, but cannot promise anything. It may well be beyond our capabilities."  
"I have the utmost faith in you, and trust that the noteworthy complimentary information and financed extra resources will be put to good use."  
"We will see what we can manage."

Nabiki shut down the connection. (Hmm... he's actually desperate enough to grant me free access to all available information about this enchantment as goodwill collateral, and grants me an arcane consultant as an extra bonus. The bumbler turns useful after all... though it's not like mercie-poo can climb in the hierarchy with a record of petty street crime... The payoff likely far exceeds the warranted risks and effort... Plausible deniability required, but potential blackmail problem if it's not convincing...)  
She mulled things over for a few seconds. (Well, I doubt this could possibly tweak the odds enough to succeed, and even then I wouldn't have high hopes given the security of that place, but I don't want to look over my shoulder the rest of my life. The assistant and me give it a serious shot, check predicted success-rate prospects, and will inevitably reach zero unless he's moved somewhere else. End of problem... but that handyman sounds like just what the doctor ordered, probably a far more beneficial asset given the right... *shudder* "incentives". It didn't sound like he has much success on that front, much less free pickings...)  
She fought down the queasy feeling in her throat. It wasn't remotely like her to put out, but the benefits could be enormous... and when all was said and done she still owed Taro eventual payback for shaking loose her control. It wouldn't do to leave the accounting unbalanced for an actual loss of face. Strip-mining his resources and leaving him to rot might make a nice start. (All right, so the enticement won't be remotely pleasant, but it may become a very irregular necessary sacrifice, to keep an invaluable human resource safely under my thumb. I must give the cockroach some offer others can't match, to breed long-term absolute loyalty…)

The phone rang again. (What is it now? Does he have to ask mama for every little thing?) "Yes?"

"Oh, hi! Yes, he told me. You have quite the reputation as an visionary and connoisseur."

"Yes, I heard. I'm sincerely impressed that you managed to notice me. It's truly amazing. I have so much to learn from you. Maybe you could show me some of your work?"

"I'm really looking forward to meeting you too. I think that we are going to become the very best of friends..." (Gag raised to the power of four! I'll really have to check if it's possible to put the simulacrums to auto-setting... Something else...)  
She snapped her fingers. (The mushrooms of course. Gradually renewed youth, with one year off for every major success as a motivator carrot for the most valuable flunkies, and my empire should attract the best and brightest.)

ooo000ooo

Ryoga sat staring at the portable board placed at the lawn next to the Unryuu farm, unconsciously patting Shirokuro, his central line-partitioned, half-white/half-black, vaguely chessboard-reminiscent dog, surrounded by her playing, nearly full-grown puppies. He thought hard, quickly placed mental 100-ton weights on annoying images of Ranma, Ryuu, and Ukyo splitting their sides and hammering on the floor, and focused again. Jerks. He would get a hold of this eventually... He was supposedly a prodigy in the martial arts, and this was sort of related wasn't it? He moved a black board piece, claiming four others for himself. A white marker drifted freely in the air, touched down and claimed twelve. The replacements similarly seemingly substituted themselves. So what if she always trounced him bad at Go? At least they were doing something beyond "playing hide-and-seek". She had been a bit more accommodating after he came back from the fight last week, even sitting down in front of him for once instead of hovering aloof, and he had caught glimpses of something starry in her eyes. Women were very strange. Most of them were wise, and kind, and soft, and smooth, and pretty, and smelled nice, but still very perplexing. He moved another, getting six this time.

A shadow moved over the ground. Ryoga looked up. Right above there was a single, overhanging dark cloud in an otherwise open sky, blotting a few hundred metres wide area surrounding the house. A light rain began to fall. He was glad that he always brought one of his trusty bamboo combat-umbrellas, even if he didn't use them much for fighting anymore. They were too slow, and the damage-increase wasn't necessary. He could use the chi-blasts if he needed to. Some leaves began to stir as little wafts pushed them to the side. Ryoga picked up the game in his free hand, and walked towards the porch to seek refuge before the wind would make the downpour nearly impossible to avoid.  
Holly giggled. Giggled! "Silly husband. Must learn better shield, not just flash. I help." She grasped his hand, and took control of the flows. He didn't know that she could do that, synchronise yes, take it no, but the water refrained from touching his skin. Her hand was warm despite the cold, and very small. He hadn't noticed before.

This had turned up at suspiciously sudden notice, without any hints beyond widespread sunshine in the local weather forecast. He glanced at the ornate beauty. "You're not the one setting this up, are you?"  
She shook her head. "No husband. It is too hard, too many patterns. Would take hours if lucky, probably days."

The breeze rose into a gale. The lightning struck accompanied by a resounding clap, an aged pine left split and ashen in its wake. In the centre of the smouldering but quickly doused scorched earth, a similarly elderly man came into sight, heavily wrinkled and leaning against a long ornamented wooden rod that towered above a slightly crouched back, but tall, sinewy, and with lively eyes in spite of his old age. His head was bald and entirely clean-shaven, save for a ceremonial white braid stemming from the back of his skull, and a long thin moustache, swaying freely beneath his chin as the curls drifted in the wind. He was clad in soft loose silk fabric patterned after green and golden scales, and a Yin/Yang symbol adorned the centre of his chest. His pupils were slits embedded in crimson upon glossy white. "Hello student. Hello my child."

"Grandfather Wan!" Hao Li happily rushed forward and brusquely embraced the sprightly senior.  
Loh Zhang Da Shi Wan laughed. "Careful child. I'm not so young anymore, and only a distant uncle at best."  
Ryoga shook off the surprise. "Snake-geezer, why do you call Holly a child? She's over 450 years old!"  
Loh Wan gently loosened the dragon princess' grip, and inquiringly inspected her from head to toe. "Yes... my little girl seems to be growing up..."  
Hao Li blushed.  
Ryoga gawked, for two individual reasons.  
"It is just her way." Rowan had spoken without turning.

The Snake-Lord continued, still facing his protégé. "So are you all right? Do you enjoy yourself here?"  
Hao Li humbly bowed in gratitude for the concern. "Yes master. This is a strange world, but I take pleasure in cultivating the patterns and dancing with the pink flowers."  
Loh Wan sagely nodded. "You were always an artisan and voyager at heart."  
The Go board burst into splinters in Ryoga's fist.  
Loh Wan raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Clumsy as ever I see." The elder sighed. "I have never seen the like in power and raw talent, but so little imagination... I hope that your betrothed will be able to change this."  
Ryoga groaned. Being called an idiot at the drop of a hat was getting old, by Sensei Rowan no less.  
Hao Li flared up. "He faced Lao Zi Ge! Husband can do anything!"

Ryoga frowned. He only had a vague idea of what she was talking about. Holly could offer unpredictable cryptic hints of perception at the drop of a hat without any discernible sources or additional explanations. This was certainly the first time she mentioned anything beyond that send-off whisper. She told him what she felt he needed to be told like a good little boy... wonderful. The emotional outbursts were even less decipherable. She was generally composed enough to send him to die without flinching, while randomly turning delighted or protective. One or the other he could understand, but not both at a time. It was too complex for him.

The grandmaster of the Shokei Fist stared in utter shock. "You confronted the Bing Huang Ma Luan, the Turmoil and Chaos of War, and somehow remain among the living? I cannot fathom what quirk of fate could possibly have made this achievable, but am grateful." He shook his head. "However, I am afraid this may not last for a very long time..."  
The elder straightened with some support from his cane. "This isn't a social visit, pleasant as it may be. I herald grave portents."  
Ryoga wasn't particularly surprised. "I figured, but I thought you followed 200-year schedule or so and weren't in a hurry?"  
Loh Wan nodded. "Indeed, but the Long Huang, the Dragon King, does not trust you, and will not accept any chances of unexpected passing. You are part of the clan, and I fear that it is far too late regardless of compliance... The Dynasty shall claim its due. "  
"Why don't you just challenge him for the throne?"  
Rowan looked baffled, but then began to laugh. "Student, you do not know our ways. The share of cold serpent-blood in me is nearly pure, and the dragon too thin to compare with the King's. One outweighs the other and the stronger bloodline prevails. I am merely a humble teacher in the ways, for the pure-blooded to consult. Thus has it ever been for wyverns and wyrms, thus may it still remain for some time to come." Loh Wan sighed. "It is hard to change with such an ancient legacy miring us in its patterns, but it represents history, and there is something to be said for that... So little is remaining since Mao burned it all..." He made a wry smile. "There is also the small matter of my age."

ooo000ooo

Nabiki pumped a hand into the air. "Woo! Woo! Go get him tiger!"  
Ranma only reacted with an annoyed frown.  
Well, that was a downer. She had lots of fun with that cheer before she "cured" him. (How about this then?)  
Ten upright lionesses with pompoms and cheerleader uniforms made another try. "Claw him! Bite him! Rah! Rah! Rah!"  
Ranma ignored her and pounced towards the edge of the displacement zone.

Ryoga ponderingly walked in a small circle near the edge of the post-apocalyptic wreckage-zone, as Ryuu tended to call it. Holly knew where to pick him up if he didn't move about, and she could discern his general whereabouts anyway. He needed to think up a plan of action, speaking out loud for himself. "Ok, what to do now? D-d-do th-th-th-that with her to settle the d-deal?" He turned bright red at the first option. "B-b-b-but w-w-we b-barely kn-know each other, and A-A-Akari wouldn't like it at a-all..." He wasn't quite satisfied with that rationalisation. If Akari got hurt that would be far worse, but that meant he had to lose her anyway! There was no way out! He must be strong for her sake... strong! All that mattered was that she was kept safe! Strong! He began to wail in desperation. "Oh Akaaaari!"

He recalled what Grandmaster Rowan had said, and began to think again. Herb... Ryoga spat on the ground. Herb... may he be devoured by rabies-stricken beavers... Herb... may he be used as custard-pie target-practice for neophyte clowns... Herb... may he be poisoned from overeating fermented herrings... Herb would order him liquidated anyway. They truly loathed each other, it was as simple as that, and the latter used the delay as a formal excuse to get around the regulations in these matters. He was accused of betraying his part of the "deal", which was Herb's way of saying "Obey or everyone you know dies. If you do I will let my personal teacher "probe your potential" for a few months, to ascertain that you are not a wasted effort." Great "deal". Foisting a lot of unwanted obligations on him and loosening all restraints on his chi-generation, which "somehow" turned out to be far greater than manageable for any non-grandmaster. He just bet that Mister "We speak in plural. Aren't we neat?" was "astonished" by that "revelation"... putting him in constant danger of blowing up everything around him, potentially eventually burning him out, and given that he sincerely doubted Happosai would be so helpful, it "conveniently" made him dependent on Holly to survive. Ha-ha... your humour sucks.

He had to dedicate half his waking time to alternate between harmonising the flows with Holly's assistance, learning to safely control and focus a certain growing amount through intense exercise, and using up enough through recurrent giant exhausts, also channelled when safely linked. Her finesse and precision was unbelievable, eclipsing even Herb's, and she was seriously strong and tough, despite not being trained in strictly combat-oriented usage of her talents. Apparently proper Musk ladies-in-waiting weren't supposed to soil their fists. She even tutored him to make better use of his own. He was very grateful for the help, and she was beautiful, courteous, elegant and feminine. He would have found her enchanting if he simply saw her in a restaurant. But that was more than compensated by the fact that her tribe, culture and particularly her stupid brother caused the entire situation to start with, just to use him as unwilling breeding stock for a reinforced characteristic chi-potential in the dragon-blood.

He could also never go anywhere without her tracking and following him around after at most an hour. It helped him not to get lost for weeks at a time, he got that, and Akari liked that he was more around the house. He had even been able to resume his studies, was able to see his dogs more frequently, and the sumo-pigs were kind of fun, but he had no independence anymore. He was shackled to this place unless he brought a nanny, and even if he somehow got some room for himself it didn't take long until he somehow got drenched, his clothes were destroyed, pedestrians were fleeing, and armed forces tried to bring him into a zoo. When he turned into a piglet the wilderness was very dangerous, but as a tiger he couldn't blend in anywhere, making it harder to use the still vastly enhanced sense of smell to at least occasionally go in the right direction. It was the only thing he used to be able to remotely rely on. At least he was pushing to get better at using the tracking device, and Akari could use it to find him.

There was also the little fact that a large part of Holly's nature was a warfare-romanticising, almost 500-year-old, lunatic dragon-hybrid, from an ancient small warrior-dynasty with savage, archaic, oddball or at least outmoded, thousands-of-years-old values that he found thoroughly overbearing, and he was permanently stuck with her. She had already waited for more than four centuries, so there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that she would still serenely hover outside his window when he was an old man in 300 years, as unflappable as ever. She was like an unstoppable stalker. Shampoo, Kodachi, Kuno and Mousse put together had nothing on her. Gah!

Though he had to admit that she wasn't as unnerving to be around anymore. They had actually begun to do some things together except for fighting and treatment. Playing Go, walking through the city with Akari, and she kept track that nobody was around when they went for a swim. She even took them flying once. That had been the best thing he'd done in years. He just didn't like to be forced to suffer people and be dependent on them, especially the last part, even if they might have got along fine otherwise.

Never mind. Akari had to be kept safe. He would send her and her grandfather to their country-house, and face this himself. Herb would probably only see a point in killing them if he was still alive...

He suddenly sensed an extremely nearby hostile presence and instinctively lashed out with an unconscious backhand swing at the very last instant.

Ranma made a sizeable crater in the mountainside. If the rock had been sentient it might have found the constant violent erosion rather repetitive at this point. Thankfully it was not, and things would have been pretty slow unless a settlement was created, a road or mine was built, two continental plates had a bar fight, or the occasional ice age glacier came by for a chat.  
Ryoga was relieved. "Oh, it's just you."  
Ranma remained excited. The Umisen-ken should cloak his battle-aura, his intent, from any adversaries, but so what? He was in a great mood, and wanted to play. Then he could lie in the sun with some fish and a cup of milk. "'Just me' my butt! Things have changed around!" He leapt straight at Ryoga, fingers poised like animal claws.  
Ryoga stepped to the side, allowing his rival to land right beside him. Not that it made any difference. The latter kept bouncing around, landing on all fours just to make unceasing attempts to unleash another barrage of finger swipes whenever his opponent ducked. Ryoga thought that he swerved around, or blocked almost all of them, but noted that Ranma landed many blows through his guard, or rather without needing to land them. "Yeah, you've turned a little bit faster, and can do some pressure-strike tricks, but Ryuu does it much better."  
"Better than this too?" Ranma jumped above Ryoga's head, somersaulted in the air and got in position.  
Ryoga didn't bother to move two steps to the side. He was a bit curious about what his opponent would opt to do.  
"White Cat-Venom Reliable Fist!" Ranma applied over 1000 blows along the nerve centres of Ryoga's back. The force doubled by additional air-pressure and focused pointed fingers.  
He noiselessly landed on the ground, a single big toe cushioning the impact. Hands held curved before his face like a cat sharpening its claws. "Ryuu had a problem with that one even in its original mode, and I've combined it." He noticed with some disappointment that his opponent had swayed a little, but didn't fall, nor displayed the slightest discomfort.  
Ryoga felt a bit revitalised. "That was pretty good, dumb name, but pretty good. You're making progress just like old times."  
Ranma was undeterred. He leapt into the shrubbery, used the Umisen-ken to cloak his presence again, waited until the hunter turned confused, and tried again. This time the jerk wouldn't be steeled for it.  
He was struck in mid-leap by what felt like a wall of reinforced bedrock, and fell to the ground.

Ryoga offered him a hand up. "Better luck next time. My dairokkan is much sharper than yours, it had to be back when everything saw me as lunch, and I'm better at homing in on the direction of a danger nowadays. It doesn't work so well when you use that move, but if I stretch out a tiny bit of aura I get a warning when any moving object enters the zone, and then it's just a regular shockwave expansion. Simple trick, but pretty useful if an elite assassin catches you asleep."  
Ranma bounced up by himself. He was annoyed, both by Ryoga and because he couldn't even bother to stay annoyed when the guy he was fighting cheered for him, even if it was mostly to get a proper sparring-partner, which annoyed him even more. That created an interesting loop. He settled for being annoyed with himself, and then let go, since he couldn't bother to concentrate. Images of milk, fish, comfy pillows, and balls of yarn kept appearing in his head. "Yeah, yeah. It's all about getting better at using what we already have at this point. There are no quick fixes to learn something entirely new beyond developing the basics stuff that we have a talent for, just many years of hard training for every single thing. I worked with that."

He assumed his upright "cat-stance". "Just let me try something. This one is going to bring you down. Period." His aura manifested as a thin azure blaze, and funnelled its chi into a golden flow enfolding his extended fingers, bright confidence with an Arctic touch. He spun his hands at supersonic speed, modulating his blast cadence into a pattern of thin glowing streams. Slicing ice-cold winds of twofold pressure focused into piercing whips.  
Ryoga initially allowed his automatic chi-enforcement defence... no actual damage so far. He pushed it down to his breaking point-training level to test. (Ouch!) He was struck hard right through a throng of thick trunks, receiving several minor cuts and bruises from the assault.  
Ranma approached by leaping crossways between the trees, and touched down on all four paws. "Ha! Told you!"  
Ryoga pulled out a few loose twigs from his hair. "Yeah, but Ryuu can still do it a bit better when he really tries. Find a way to sneak in that stunt you did last time to do a whirlwind with streams of "razor-pressure" or whatever you will call it, and you might get me..." He jerked to a sudden stop. "Did you just eat a bird?"  
Ranma blinked twice, and noticed that something was struggling fiercely within his mouth. He turned around and coughed loudly into one of his hands, then faced his rival again with an attempted imitation of Nabiki's most inconspicuous expression. A feather was sticking to his upper lip, and a sweat-drop to his brow. "Of course not. What are you talking about?" Some white waste matter landed on his head as a parting gift.  
Ryoga somehow managed to suppress his own sweat-drop, decided that he had not seen anything, and possibly hallucinated, then continued where he broke off. "Yeah, well, anyway, since you came by... I'm calling in a favour. I think I need some help."

ooo000ooo

Everything had mostly returned to everyday routine, same old, same old. Ryuu wasn't even a proper officer yet, but still had to take responsibility and work occasional double-shifts to bring the elite enforcement operatives to the next level, or at least the chi-users, the espers just had to strain themselves further and learn precision in combat sessions. A necessary united effort to compensate for loosing their greatest asset. "Cultivation time to grow as an organisation" as Taikio, bless him, would have said it, wasn't a luxury they could afford anymore.

Simultaneously he was partnering with Kiyoko of all people, "showing her the ropes" or whatever he was supposed to do with her. He couldn't imagine anyone less suited for fieldwork, but they needed a rune-soldier... or rune-peacekeeper, whichever the case may currently be. And it was pretty funny to watch her try to serenely talking the perps into peacefully giving up or trying a different path in life, while they ineffectually hailed at her to no avail whatsoever. If they were distracted or exasperated that made his job easier, and he liked the kindly little psychic/empath.

Most perplexing she actually had a decent success ratio. A few of her counselling victims sincerely applied for prison rehabilitation programs, with her giving them an occasional encouraging visit, or even gave up information due to a suddenly aching conscience. He supposed all hope might not be lost yet for the world... naah.

Best of all, after bringing a formal complaint of "consistently detrimental distractions" against Hayato, he had managed to shove the latter as a contact for Ayumu instead. Ryuu sincerely hoped that they would drive each other mad instead of him, and going by the discussion at the restaurant table behind his own at least one of them was succeeding. Hayato had actually left his office, strange as it may sound. A modicum of daily exercise was one of the new regulations.

Ayumu calmly took a sip of camomile tea. "I follow the path of meaningful actions. If it feels right, it is right, and thus there I go."  
Hayato was making wild gestures. His face was weary. "But yesterday you drew a banana! On a wall! And then you started to repeatedly redraw it to gradually unpeel and get eaten! Why? At least tell me why? Oy mean you can apparently do these nutty popular "science" quantum-theory observation odds-adjustments consciously, with all those psychedelic or hidden "pattern circuits" of yours that you keep distributing en masse through any table-tissue-companies or music CD-cover designers that accept your work..."  
Hayato's hand trembled slightly as he drank from his fourth inky cup of coffee. "Those at least have some diffuse flow-theory vibe intent, "charged up and anchored by so many people touching them" and "adding complexity to your greater weave to make it self-conscious". That makes absolutely no sense, but Oy don't argue with the results, and at least you inform me about whatever it is that you're trying to do, but this "Oy follow the path" stuff makes no sense to you either! How the heck am Oy supposed to work with that?"  
A rickety Chiquita truck went by, and dropped a cluster into Ayumu's lap. He didn't show the least sign of surprise.  
Hayato gave off an exasperated grunt. His eyes were sunken. "Did you plan that?"  
Ayumu snapped loose a banana and started to eat it. "No, but it felt right, and yesterday I was satisfied, but now I was hungry, and I had forgot to bring much money, and soon I am satisfied again. All is well."  
Hayato rested his face against the table, arms held behind his neck. "Oy really want to strangle you right now."  
Ayumu patted him on the shoulder in a fatherly manner. "Just have faith in the purpose. Do you want a banana?"  
"Oy hate you... Oy truly hate you."  
Ryuu stretched out his arms to work out some kinks, basking in the cloudless sunlight. Aaah! Life was good.

The only major setback had been when an overenthusiastic wannabe revolutionary work group had decided that the time was right to unveil their cross-field "techno mage" construct, a creepy little bugger of sickly pale skin interwoven with ever-shifting circuitry. Just standing unmoving, staring with distant sterile eyes, evaluating input, dissecting flaws, and spinning probabilities at the fraction of a second, weaving spell sigils at a rate far beyond mere human capacity. The really scary part was that they had supposedly managed to convince someone to actually volunteer for the procedure.

When the unfortunate researchers activated it on for a demonstration, they had been instantly surrounded by iridescent streams of elegant calligraphy, and various segments of their bodies had, according to the analysis, among other things, simultaneously sported large bulbous growths, tried to take root, twisted back and forth into distorted mixtures of mythological animals, flown off as a swarm of colourful butterflies, detonated in sparkly symmetry as blood components recombined into nitroglycerine, had their brains rendered insensate by a sadistically potent mixtures of hard drugs, nearly every nerve cell lit on fire for optimised pain, and spewed out who-knows-what from a jumble of conflicting other-dimensional nexus-pockets that had opened up in their stomachs. All the while speaking in tongues, as far as analysis could tell, simply to declare lengthy hymns of praises and unwavering loyalty to a cherished sack of potatoes.

If the horror had not been preset for a 5-second runtime, with most influences instantly unwoven, and promptly decided to commit suicide by turning into a vase of pink flowers, kami knows if the world had been left around in workable condition. Needless to say nobody felt particularly motivated to resume the research.

Hitomi had wistfully grumbled that if the punks hadn't been so fixated on inserting creative methods of maiming, torture, and destruction, by treating the poor creature like a splatter video-game, they might have strictly uploaded medical procedures and harmless healing enchantments to craft the greatest doctor known to man, which had been her original objection, but that none of them ever listened to her, and then went back to her mounting workload.

The phone rang, Ryuu's private one for once. He checked the listed caller name. "Yo dumb-ass. What's up? Trouble in paradise?"  
"...Seriously? Oh what the heck, why not? I suppose I owe you one for the other day, even if you botched that one up big time. Big bro is going to bail you out as usual."  
"...Nah, it is no big deal. There's no free lunch. I owe you one, you owe me one, and we'll keep trading... hang on for a moment. I'll check something up."  
Ryuu put the phone on hold, reconsidered for a few seconds, and opted for another path. Normally he'd have cut the silly, idiot savant, lump of power a break. It actually wasn't virgin-boy's fault last time around, and he was almost killed in the attempt, so this really made them about even, but Ryuu didn't need to admit that, and his unit was in a jam... besides, he probably did the indecisive foul-up a favour.  
He picked it up again. "Actually scratch that, if I risk my neck for you here and now, I want some upfront capital here and now. You give your word to come work for the unit in the same function as myself. I'm short on a partner, and the force needs some power. I think you'll like it, but if it doesn't work out or I can't keep track before you wander off to Kyoto, you get to call it off after a trial run."  
"...You, study? I almost thought you were illiterate? All right, it seems like a waste of time, but whatever floats your boat. I don't think you need any combat training anyway. Just sit with your books until we find some monster to went on."  
"...Yeah, a 300-year lifespan sure helps for catching up. So do I have your word, and I'm talking Giri, or what?"  
"...Good enough for me. We'll set up some area where you can let loose not to overload, and the blood & flowers-loon, or some seeing-eye sumo pork-chops can tag along if you want. It sure makes my job easier."  
"...Yeah, call me when it's time, but give a few hours head-start to be on the safe side." He put aside the phone. (Well, what do you know? Little pebbles striking loose a boulder. Maybe there's something to Ayumu's babble after all?)

ooo000ooo

Hao Li picked cherries from the trees in her grove, meticulously pruning branches that intruded on the harmony of her pattern, using what resembled thin, translucent razors protruding from her fingers.  
Ryoga gazed at the graceful lady, as she floated around the glade. It had been a few days since Rowan's visit, and Akari had been safely stowed away together with their dogs and pigs. "I know that look. You want to say something."  
She inhaled the aroma from a few remaining Sato Zakura blossoms that had not yet born fruit, and spoke in passing, as if peacefully remarking on the pleasant weather. "Younger brother is coming husband."  
Ryoga didn't bother to ask how she knew. She just did, as usual, and it wasn't like she would tell him anyway.  
"Strong ether... influence... making waves... fractals... patterns... osmosis... recognition... characteristic... very angry." The speech-patterns of somebody who had absorbed a very great quantity of language in a very short time, but hadn't given the mould much time to cool into quality of structure yet, alternately simply considered the filler details a waste of time, as long as she knew the intention and anyone who mattered would bother to listen up, or a little bit of both.  
Hao Li unmindfully carried on moulding her clay.  
Well, what do you know? She did, sort of, and he wasn't sure what some of it meant, but still... Ryoga picked up his cell phone and dialled three separate listed numbers in rapid order. She had evidently not used her free time for idle pursuits.

Mu Zhi walked towards the entrance at the Cat Café, unsuccessfully pretending not to notice the waitress who was cleaning up after the daily closure.  
Shan Pu did not find his recent pouting-streak remotely becoming, but then he was a blight to look at no matter the mood. "Where you going stupid Mousse? You try part-time work again? I no make dishes by self."  
Mu Zhi sniffed. "If you must know, some people actually put great value to my talents."  
Shan Pu chuckled. "What talents that be? Fall down sinkhole? Make like clown? Try cut bread with giant fork? Put pepper in cake instead sugar? Walk at lamppost and moving car? Have date together cold statue? Talk to mirror? Fly north at winter, and be laugh of other birds? Taste good in apple-sauce?"  
Mu Zhi turned around, and crashed his head into a ceiling lantern. He vainly tried to recover composure, but was unsettled by Shan Pu's snigger. "Some people think that I am the only thing that can save them from an army, and they didn't call you."  
Shan Pu did not laugh anymore. "What you saying? Stupid Mousse not Shampoo? They mad? War when he see no difference helper obstacle?"  
She threw away her apron, quickly ran into her room upstairs, and returned with a sword, spear, hunting bow and arrows strapped to her back. Grasping the handles of two massive, over 100-kilograms, spherical metal cudgels with a single hand, casually leaning them against her shoulder like they were thin air balloons, and helium at that. "Shampoo show foolish persons she much, much better catch."  
Mousse had walked into a table, and was searching for his overly thick bottle-glasses.  
"They on head stupid! Get contact lenses!" She pushed them down from Mu Zhi's brow, and dragged him out by his ear.

"You're doing what?!" Nabiki was perplexed. (How asinine can anyone get? Ever heard of the "I'm not stupid, I'm not expendable, and I'm not going" proverb? ...I think that's admirably principled. No I don't! What's wrong with me?)  
Ranma gave a simple self-evident answer. "I'm paying off my mortgage. He's saved Akane or me a few more times than I've been able to return yet. It's Giri, and you're not going to let her hear of this. She's way too brave to stay out of it." End of discussion  
(Oh no. I'm not giving up an investment that easily. He's not throwing away his life on my watch) "Look sweetie, just let me negotiate with these guys, or call the army to handle it."  
Naturally the army wouldn't care in the least about a private matter, and Japanese authorities almost uniformly tended to let criminal organisations handle themselves as long as they didn't shoot bystanders in gang-wars, or overtly stole any visible physical objects. Jaywalkers and suspicious-looking foreigners, meaning nearly all of them, were generally considered a more prioritised focus. Large-scale corruption, enforcement, protection rackets, swindling, corporate crimes, blackmail and intimidation were usually ignored as long as they didn't make an blatant disruptive ruckus, which recurrently lead to trying to shame or rather disturb them, through car-honking and such, instead of arrests. The Wa, or rigid systematic order and immaculate public appearance, was all that mattered. Though she only needed to stall him for a few hours and feign distress when it "didn't work out". Then some of his problematic little chaos-factor friends would very conveniently permanently get out of her face as an extra serving, and she would be there to comfort him. More of those dishes please.  
Ranma shook his head. "Herb isn't exactly known for meeting anyone halfway, and the police always let us handle things between ourselves if we keep it down."  
(And choosing a populated setting to force them to get involved, claim it's a terrorist cell, and at least get a reward or national fame for the trouble, didn't strike my idiot boyfriend? Well, if he necessarily has to do this) "Honey, let's all take a deep breath, calm down, and not be hasty. How about that I let a dummy impersonate Holly and set them up for a trap?"  
"It won't work. Herb's range is too wide. He's probably sensitive to these things."  
("Sensitive" in the way Ukyo and maybe Taro are I'll bet) "What about the ESP?"  
"It's more hands-on, and I've heard that lots of officers and bureaucrats pretty much hate them for it, but this type of stuff is strictly personal-level. No bystanders involved."  
(Oh-ho) "What about Akari?" (Gotcha)  
Ranma froze up. He hadn't thought of that. He called Ryoga. "Hey clueless, just checking, but is Akari put somewhere safe?"  
He put the cell phone down. "It's all right. He shipped her, the grandfather, and the pets off to a family farm in Kyoto several days ago."  
(No! It's not "all right"! You idiot! You naive... stupid... infuriating... clueless... martyring-enthusiastic... starry-eyed... toothache-, diabetes-, and vomit-inducing... idiot! Nice guys don't just finish last! They end up dead, raped, disillusioned, bankrupt, lonely, sickly, heckled, unfulfilled, bitter, hollow, and broken!) Nabiki gestured to the skies in vain exasperation, then resignedly covered her eyes with one hand and used the remaining to discourteously wave him off. "Go away... just go... I really don't know what to do with you..." She needed recreation, suckers to outsmart, lavish shopping, and classy drinks. Hopefully some trendy club had a show going. She would not grant him the satisfaction of staying home worrying for his sake.

Ryuu checked the 5-minutes old sms on the display. He grinned, activated the blinkers on the roof, and drummed his fingers in a marching rhythm to the side, using one hand to leisurely steer the wheel, as his car accelerated through the streets of Tokyo. Dum-du-du-du-du-dum-du-du-du-du-dum-du-du-du-du- dum. Showtime.

ooo000ooo

Shan Pu snorted. "This who respect Mousse talent? Now make sense. Lost pork boy so foolish is not compliment. Is insult!" She nodded knowingly.  
She inquisitively looked at the odd young woman in the air above her head. For some reason the latter reminded her of a village elder. "You there silly pig, who this?" She pointed upwards.  
Ryoga didn't have a great deal of patience for pushy warrior-women. His experience with Ukyo had at least taught him that much. "Ask her yourself," he muttered.  
Shan Pu did not have much success on that front. She eventually decided that feigning an attack might at least rouse some attention, and leapt into the air. She was gently but resolutely decelerated and put back to her place on the ground by what felt like an almost solid barrier of air. This was curious, the strange woman seemed to be a force to be reckoned with, yet did not outright attempt to defeat her. It was possible that this was simply deemed as the wrong time, but she might also be informed about the Joketsuzoku regulation that a warrior should hunt down and kill any outside woman that defeated her. Very curious, but respecting their traditions was honourable behaviour, even if Shan Pu mostly ignored them whenever it did not seem urgent, useful or worth the effort, at least while remaining stuck in this peculiar city. It could be interesting to get to know and maybe learn from her.  
"He is approaching to meet us husband."  
Shan Pu frowned. Now the lady decided to talk, and it did not look like she had moved her lips, just sound carried by the wind? What was this husband business? Was this yet another interfering obstacle for her groom? She glanced to the side. No he did not seem interested, or at least was focused on something else, but he usually did not show much interest for any of his paramours...

"If everyone has finished clowning around, it's probably a good idea to focus here."  
That was the manly boy in green- and black-speckled trousers. Shan Pu would have found him quite attractive, if not for the brash attitude. It might turn him a little too hard to control, and he had a "law" badge on his chest. She did not like people who might try to force her into accommodating to their conventions. Adapting by personal choice of expediency was an entirely different matter.

Stupid Mu Zhi paid attention to something other than herself for once. It was a nice change... He had been disappearing somewhere for the last 2 or 3 months... (Maybe the woman is his lover? He would finally leave me alone!) She sighed. No, too good to be true. It was probably just the policeman. The lady looked like someone who should have reasonably good taste, but the matter would be investigated, and she would regret any intentions to take what was not hers. Shan Pu tensed up. Something was rustling and approaching in the forest. She saw a regal male stepping out. He looked rather similar to the flying girl.

Ryoga focused to keep looking in the same direction. This was not a good time to lose sight of his surroundings. The draconian butt-pain had strode out alone into the meadow... His soldiers obviously waited behind concealed by the woods, but his two bodyguards almost always followed at his side... Ryoga caught something tight in his throat. "Where's Lime?"  
Hao Huang Bu shrugged. "Li Me refused to follow. He did not want to dispose of an oath-brother."  
Ryoga remained tense. "What did you do to him?"  
Herb seemed faintly surprised. "Why, nothing of course. Li Me has served us faithfully since we were children; we simply struck him unconscious through a lengthy bombardment to make an example. It would be a different matter if we had actual need for him. Then he would be handled as befitting a traitor to the throne."  
"You're a really giving guy." Ryoga spat out.

Hao Huang Bu ignored him and turned his head slightly to the side, directly facing the latter's most noteworthy companion. "We owe a debt of one life. Resist us, and we will spare you once. Do not raise your hand and we will let you select one to go free, with certain..." He meaningfully glanced towards Ryoga. "...Exceptions."  
Ryuu's eyes widened. "You actually saved this guy? Good call there, fem-boy. No worries. No trouble at all."  
Ranma shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. He was a worthy opponent, too much for me head-on, even if he was a vicious bastard. I thought it would be a waste to just let him die."  
Ryoga stepped forward. "It's me that you want. Let's settle this like men."  
Herb looked amused. "But why in the world would we want to allow an adversary to select the battleground? We well know the futility of facing you directly by ourselves." He gave an unpleasant smile, and cordially gestured with both hands to the right. "We brought some help." Twelve large warriors in their prime or early middle age, and with lean muscular builds similar to Lime's, walked into the meadow, seasoned grim faces utterly devoid of good humour, and clad in tiger-striped uncouth hunting garbs.  
Hao Li's resolute composure crumbled like a house of cards. "Brother, no! Let him be! Please! Grandmaster-Elder Loh Wan would not approve!"  
Hao Huang Bu's head snapped to the side. "Woman, know your place! You have shamed us immensely! A stain in the eyes of Great Chien Tang and the four hosts! Do not dishonour yourself further, and hold your tongue. This is a matter amongst men."  
Hao Li gasped and shrank back as if struck with the world itself. She humbly bowed, shivering all the while. "Forgive me honoured Emperor-brother. I have erred."  
The dragon king calmly recommenced. "The tribute must be paid. We have need for the seed of the designated. He has been unwilling to impart it, so we will salvage it from his corpse and infuse it into the female."  
Ryuu gaped. "I did not just hear that."

Shan Pu darted forward, massive Chui in each fist. "Arrogant male should learn respect for strong womans!"  
Hao Huang Bu leisurely disarmed and grabbed her by the jugular with a single hand, raised her into the air at arm's length, and squeezed. She vainly struggled to break his grip. "Insolence! This is what happens in this fleeting decadent epoch! We are anticipatory to await its passing, and see nature returns to its proper order."  
Shan Pu vainly gasped for air as Hao Huang Bu's fist trembled in outrage.  
Mu Zhi's face contorted into a distorted grimace, the visage of a berserk oni. He wordlessly accelerated.  
Hao Huang Bu sneered in contempt. "Be gone insect!" He didn't bother to release the hold and offhandedly waved his free arm, unleashing a Ryuu Zan-ha barrage of shimmering essence-razors, expecting immediate demise from the unworthy upstart, and instantly disregarding the entire matter.  
They cut deep into Mu Zhi's flesh. A rib immediately slashed right through with a damaged lung underneath, a tendon, a cheek, a ligament, an upper arm, and a side of the stomach... He didn't notice.

His Imperial Sovereign Majesty the Dragon King Hao Huang Long Bu was skewered through the heart by an oversized common hayfork, with a look of utter astonishment in his face.  
A terror quickly grew in his mind, greatly eclipsing his personal hazard. His eyes fixated on his older sister... then dilated in shock. (No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...) His eyes went blank and rolled upwards, as he crumpled to the ground.

Shan Pu had turned bright red. She could not tear free from the rigor-mortis dead man's grip.  
Ryuu had reacted quicker than the others, and grunted as he strained for success, achieving it in time to save Shampoo's life. She fell down, to rest unconscious on the soil. He glanced towards the collapsed Mousse. "I actually feel a bit bad for him. She won't even offer this a thought tomorrow."  
Ranma ripped his red sweater to slices, and began to bandage Mousse's wounds. "He's as hardy as I am. He'll be fine in a few days, maybe a week. Probably some scars though."  
Ryoga was engaged in a mutual angry staring contest with the disarrayed warriors, threateningly clutching an open water bottle. "Do you want to make something of it?"

It was an impotent threat. Ryoga well knew that he was a match for roughly 4-5 of them at once if he went all-out... maybe six if he was lucky and in tiger-mode. They could withstand ridiculous amounts of damage, and, unless he unshackled all hampers, they were all at least 2 times stronger than his regular human state. His chi was great enough to push him past them and then some for brief intervals, but it was very dangerous beyond that. Defence could be focused slightly outside the body, so that wasn't nearly as strenuous. Ranma and Ryuu would be pressed to wear down just one each, but probably had a small edge, and they could take two only if they were really clever, stalled them a great deal, and had lots of dumb luck... If Holly decided to pitch in, which was uncertain, that could be another two... a touch better odds. Shampoo might have a tiny chance to distract one long enough for someone else to handle it, but her defence had always sucked, and she'd probably take too long to awaken... If this blew up the very best case scenario would be that they all killed each other...  
Dammit! Herb (May he be reincarnated as a chew-toy for incontinent dogs) had picked carefully. The ludicrous amounts of brute force guys were very well suited to handling him. The Wolf-, Snake-, Fox-, Warthog-, Panda-, and Monkey-clans wouldn't have been strong enough to do any damage, and only the first two were more than a handful, as the rest had been deemed less adequate. One full-force aura expansion and it would have been over. Probably not the Bear-clan either, and they were pretty slow. The Tigers were the elite of the Shokei Fist, the sergeants of the rest. When en masse he wouldn't get the chance to focus his blasts. They could handle the wider beams, give each other enough time to recover, get through his guard, and excepting Lime, this was the entire regiment.

The soldiers very uncomfortably turned towards Hao Li. "What say you Empress?" The captain who had spoken spat out the word like a heap of dung.  
Hao Li was very bewildered. This was unprecedented. Since times immemorial, there had always been a male heir. The women grew up in separate quarters, demurely awaiting the grace of infrequent visitations. This was the very last unthinkable resort, in case no fertile male successor, no matter how diluted the dragon-blood, was left alive, sometimes being forced to breed with a female cousin to strengthen the line. Their father had just passed away in a prolonged serious illness, and it had taken many, many tries to find suitable mates. Always with fatal results if their bodies even accepted the seed, and only twice lasting until childbirth... The necessary qualifications, or rather the necessary martial vitality of the concubine, had gradually waned in the general populace. More so throughout this modern era... The dragon-curse spring the ancestors had prepared for emergencies was long gone, destroyed a thousand years ago by frightened villagers. It could no longer jump-start the legacy, as it had in the past... Master Loh Wan was far too old to procreate, and had never risked his lovers to die from the trauma...  
She looked at Ryoga with a twinkle of hope in her face. "Leave my consort and Monarch be."  
He disbelievingly stared back. "Are you crazy?"  
She shook her head. "I am not. It is acceptable until a son is born."  
"And I can't just order these bozos to disband and get regular jobs?"  
"No husband. The legacy is ancient, 14000 years past, before first chronicles of man. The lineage will not break until extinguished, and is very rare link to history, to foundation. It has place somewhere."  
Ryoga sighed. "That's just peachy... but I'm not going to move to rural China, no matter what you say." He took a deep breath, but briefly paused as he got an idea. "All right people, listen up! Your new Emperor-man will stay here. All blood-debts of revenge are written off. Just leave this country, never come back, and go do whatever it is you're doing. Fighting all day, I suppose. Do your thing. Holly here will come and visit as my emissary, and if you have a problem, you call her. I will speak through her, and when she's gone Sensei Rowan handles things, all right?"  
The warriors warily looked towards one another, then nodded, picked up the fallen sovereign, and departed en masse, leaping away at blinding speed.  
Ryoga shrugged. "Chumps... So will that work out for you? You know the culture, you can push them around, make decisions, and whatever you come up with will be me, so it's ok."

Hao Li beamed. This was proper and acceptable. There were some very rare precedents. This was all right. She threw herself around Ryoga's neck, and excitedly revolved them both as they floated through the air. "Honoured husband so good to Hao Li! So happy baby brother give such powerful groom! At least did something right!"  
Ryoga frowned. "I don't know about the groom bit..." She ignored him as usual. There wasn't any talking with some people. They were just too pigheaded. 

ooo000ooo

Coming up:  
Endgame: Enlightenment lies in the eyes of the beholder. The ultimate, immutable, and impossible choice.

ooo000ooo 


	15. Only human - Sympathy for the devil

ooo000ooo

"God is not willing to do everything, and thus take away our free will and that share of glory which belongs to us."

- Niccolo Machiavelli

"One has to pay dearly for immortality; one has to die several times while one is still alive."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

"One's real life is so often the life that one does not lead."

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."

- Oscar Wilde

ooo000ooo

Nabiki was being very unsuccessful in her very atypical effort to get stinking smashed, to loosen up her sensibilities enough to dirty dance and fool around with complete strangers, in an attempt to get back at her very inconsiderate stupid boyfriend. That'd show him to do whatever he wanted no matter the problems he gave her... if he even came back this time. Idiot jerk. In lack of lucidity for preferable distractions, she had initially donned various archetypical 'incarnated feminine perfection' semblances, whilst making sure to exude just the right erotic fragrances of jasmine, myrrh, and cinnamon, with a touch of oxytocine for some extra dependence-factor. She had earned some minimal amount of stimulation from puncturing the expected "You're really pretty." deviations with "Yes, of course, but you're an eyesore. Scram." but that barely managed to remain funny for about an hour of club hopping. By now, she didn't even bother to hide herself. She could always whip something up later. However, her physiology kept her at most semi-inebriated, and that took downing bottles of tequila. "Phff." It certainly didn't feel like a luxury problem right now. (Well, at least this little diversion should erase all doubts about whether I'm loosing my grip. Tendo Nabiki does not sulk. How very Akane of me. Now, whatever should I do about it?)

"I'd like to have a Daiquiri special s'il vous plait."  
Nabiki looked over at her companion by the bar. It was a very stylish, dark-haired young businesswoman in a chic, tastefully body-moulded white suit, and golden-brimmed elegant specs. She read as having a more than passing fluency in the finer things in life. "Give me another one of those." Nabiki took a sip. It was good. Prepared exactly the way she liked... but there was something hauntingly familiar about those features... yet she was certain that they had never passed before her eyes.  
The lady smoothly swept her own drink sideways across the counter to position it beside Nabiki's own, returning to sipping her chamomile tea. "I choose it for your benefit. I'm afraid that it is not quite to my taste."  
Nabiki jerked slightly. "I beg your pardon?"  
The mystery-woman inspected her wretched state with a certain degree of concern. "I wouldn't worry about Monsieur Saotome. I have it on very good authority that he is more than capable of taking care of himself."  
Nabiki looked down into the glass again. So yet another butt-in, maybe an alert arcane dabbler, or one of those ESP goons warning her off, so what else was new? Matters kept crashing down out of her control. She couldn't even bother to care right now. Whatever it was, she'd put her own spin on it. She always did, somehow. Hooray. "All right. It's not a good time, but you have my attention. What do you want from me, and who am I addressing?"  
"This is primarily about what you want from me Mademoiselle Tendo. Nevertheless, rest assured that he is most decidedly safe. As for who I am..."  
The woman raised her glasses, and let her eyes flash to satisfy her fondness for a certain class of panache. The locale went still, as all motion froze in its place. "Je suis megami prime class, unlimited license, Peorth. Currently assigned head system operator for this section of inter-spatial reality."  
Nabiki wasn't particularly in a mood to be impressed. "Psh! I've seen better." Actually she wasn't so sure, but certainly wasn't about to admit that. "Goddess? Oh please. You're not that good looking."

"Technically I think the term caretakers might be more approprie. We can take ourselves a bit seriously, and I am no exception, but at heart we are simply cogs in... What you'd best understand as a massive, largely benevolent corporation, and advanced computer maintenance. It is mainly satisfying work, but not quite as glamorous as the term may imply." Peorth reached into a pocket, brought out what looked like a sleek silver remote control, and touched a key. A halo pinged to life above her head. "Is this better? Non?" She pushed a second. Great wings that would make the finest swan envious sprouted from behind her back.  
"We are not usually supposed to manifest to this degree, but this tool enables me to stretch the boundaries a bit, and I have a temporary jurisdiction l'utiliser." Another click. Peorth's wings spread to 20 sheets of solid light. A final tap: Her form ripped and burst forth a vaguely humanoid luminescence, appearing very different depending on the angle, and sparkling in a cascade of "colours" beyond anything found in any spectra, beyond what any eyes could pattern-feed to the brain from any wavelength of light, yet somehow very familiar.  
Nabiki felt the taste of cherries and strawberries, a light summer breeze carrying the smell of hyacinths, roses, and the flora of an untended field in full bloom; The purl of a mountain stream, a pouring monsoon, the song of swallows, of daffodils, of exotic birds, and the crack of fireworks; The rush of skiing down the slope of a mountain, of exploring the depths of the sea, of soaring through the clouds, of making love in a moonlit pool beneath the stars... To explore, and learn, and pattern, and crack the secrets of science, of creation... to feel true fulfilment... to prove your existence... to change the world; All the flavours and tastes, climates, milieus, and positive primal experiences, nuances, or pursuits that this world had to offer, embracing and permeating her mind, her body, her essence on every level, yet not feeling the least intrusive, just a tranquil rush or therapeutic or both. If she only could have bottled this thing... She would have made a fortune.

Nabiki felt Peorth reach with a hand to lightly touch her brow / Reminisced about being touched / Was going to be touched / Had always been contentedly embraced by her mother's arms since she was born, like just before she was sent away to the hospital, and said everything would be all right, but never came back / Was going to be comforted, and never be alone until the day she died / Felt a deja vu about this happening several times before / Experienced overlapping memories as she completed each thought. / Was a doctor... a scientist... an explorer... a businesswoman... a lawyer... a publisher... a model... an actress... a diva... a trophy wife... an enforcer... a user... a swindler... a murderer... a very human woman trying to get by. / Went to another kindergarten... went to another school... met and befriended people she didn't recognise... helped little Kasumi at home... mother was never sent away... father didn't give up on her training... moved abroad with her family... was true to herself yet something else... lost amongst a thousand paths. / She was a tree... a wolf... a shark... a snake... a thousand other people... creatures... things... some evolved beyond the point of recognition...  
Every eventuality. Every possibility. Every past. Every future. Every completely unrelated alternate her... stretching forever beyond any conceptualisation... Spreading her awareness... Existing in several quantum states at once... here and there... now and then... dead and alive, or something in-between... Looking across the spans of the Universal clusters and beyond... Feeling the rhythm of an 11-dimensional superstring defining known existence... Plummeting deep into the heart of creation... but still not even scratching the surface of the totality of the exalted entity now once more calmly seated before her, inoffensively sipping herbal tea, while looking into her face and comprehending every aspect of her being with no judgement, only warm acceptance, hope for her potential, and genuine concern... Nabiki felt the bile rise as her stomach churned in unreserved revulsion. (A patronising, sanctimonious, sermonising, pity-revelling babysitter!)

Peorth paid no mind to the grimace. "Please understand, and I mean no disrespect, but you are no threat to us Mademoiselle Tendo. No lower-dimensional entity could ever truly be, regardless of subverted power-sources. We allow them to overcome a reasonably challenging avatar every now and then to make them happy, but if you could ever truly use something at our level, and nobody ever has, regardless of personal delusions, it would splatter you across more dimensions than you have available, effectively making you cease to exist. Our main job is not to subvert change, even on the scale of natural laws, which are more fluid than you might think, but to ensure that reality does not collapse upon itself, and is still around more or less intact when you wake up in the morning. Failing that, to rebuild it, and define existence beyond an eternal nothingness. Technically we certainly don't need to personally help any of you, but generally we'd like to lend a hand when we are allowed, if you'd let us."  
Nabiki looked back in disbelief. "So you're just here out of the "goodness of your heart" to help a total stranger out of billions of others, one with "very negotiable ethics" no less, and that's supposed to make tons of sense? There are no free meals, only commercial appetisers. Again, what do you want from me?"  
Peorth evenly put down her cup. "Matters have been stirred enough lately to be of a certain concern. Avec concision, your present state is the consequence of our most reckless administrator stretching the regulations to their limits and contracting with Saotome Ranma."  
Nabiki sniffed in derision. "Oh please, lover-boy is supposed to have brought this on me? "Somehow" I don't buy him instigating, keeping up, and enjoying that scale of two-faced enterprise."  
"The contract was calculated to seal without his direct knowledge, or rational judgement."  
" ...So interfering, sticking bloody Kwannon in my head, and making a mess at this scale is just "reckless"?" Nabiki barely managed to steady her rising indignation. This was not someone she could afford to antagonise.  
Peorth let slip a faint soft smile. "She's a special case, literally the tip of the scales, and we need her on our side. She means very well, but tends to get hasty, and prefers a more... direct approach of interference. I'm not certain if this is a good or bad path. Most likely it depends case by case, but it is not quite mine, and it has consequences."

A bronzed, blonde, and nearly inhumanly gorgeous, bombshell was currently engaged in cleaning the floor of a large computer terminal.  
"Hey sweeper! Gimme that bag of chips over there!"  
Urd hated this. "Get it yourself brat! It's just 20 centimetres away. Lift your own blasted arm."  
Skuld really enjoyed this. "My mega-big brain needs fuel. Not that a dumb sweeper would understand." She blew her older sibling a raspberry.  
The goddess of the past smiled in a very unpleasant way while lightning crackled around her right fist. "Oh really?"  
The goddess of the future displayed an extremely smug unconcerned grin, and stuck a stereotypical TV reporter microphone in Urd's face. "I'll tell on you."  
Urd grumbled and threw the bag into her sister's lap. This was going to be an awful month, and extended by another day for every time she received a complaint. That was almost guaranteed to stretch it way beyond, until Skuld grew bored with her current, somewhat less manifest, line of attack.

Peorth returned to the matter at hand. "Malgre tout, this is largely irrelevant to our current dilemma. Formerly we could look between the fingers to this somewhat precarious status quo. It was instated through a glitch in the system, but was nonetheless official and irrevocable. However, you are coming dangerously close of largely breaking free from the given terms of the, admittedly poorly defined, hastily cobbled together, contract through sheer insight, available expertise, resources and potential modifications. Under these conditions you would no longer fall under our jurisdiction. Further complicating this matter, the very same executive recently had a hand in the assassination of one of our opposition's top operatives. It's strictly an irrelevant hobby-project on their part, toys to be discarded when they are broken. Spirit gathering and torment is largely a myth. They don't have the time, care, need or interest. The system chiefly works in terms of gradual spiritual salvation, advancement, and recycling, but they have taken the opportunity to make demands of restitution, more specifically conveying the offer of becoming a modernised, encore plus efficient, replacement. This has been negotiated as an acceptable settlement. It seems like they have quite a lot of faith in you."

Nabiki baulked. Looking for words to win time. Stumbling out. "So what would you propose?" (Stupid! Never let the salesperson take the initiative.)  
"Do you think the gods have all the answers Mademoiselle Tendo? Oh, I suppose that we are not such a bad bunch overall, and by your measuring we do possess transcended intellect, perception, and experience in certain respects, but we all have our flaws that make us more than mere functions, mine being pride and vanity. In addition, we are mostly occupied with office work and personal issues. We certainly care. Many of us very much so, and would like to help in some way, somehow inspire you to embrace our path of at least trying to help and be kind to others, but it is much harder for those confined to a harsh reality. Ultimately, answers must be relative to oneself, and up to each individual to matter. I have not yet found all of mine."

The schemer sighed. "All right, an informed outline of prospects then?"  
The goddess gracefully clapped her hands in delight. "Bravo ma fille. Well worded effectivement."  
Ah blessed melodrama, Peorth was truly in her element now, regardless of exceedingly disturbing circumstances. She caught Nabiki's gaze. "Will you truly be yourself, rescind all the freedoms, glories and possibilities of your new life, and come to terms with your one true path restricted to the resourcefulness of an ordinary mortal? Be caught in an inescapable glass box as a desperate office lady, looking above like a caged animal, yearning for riches as a swindler, extortionist, user and abuser, but restricted to your own cleverness when circumventing the reins of society? All traces and recollections directly connected to these happenings fading like light summer reveries from all involved, seamlessly tailored in flowing order?" Images flashed before Nabiki's eyes. Her ordinary pathetic self... lacking opportunity to properly use studies in financial psychology... surrounded by a sea of hopeless spinsters whose sole ambition was to land a husband... seeking the thrill of the game for riches and leisure, blended with suffocating droning cogwheel labour, and occasional visits in court... Vainly striving to break free of her shackles... reckless mistakes made her enemies amass... heartbroken suitors or ruined victims spinning webs of reckoning... eventually catching up with her along differing routes... leading to imprisonments... or far worse. The enraptured girl shuddered in reaction.

The goddess was relentless. "Will you force each step down an unknown narrow path, bringing great things and discoveries to the world around you, without taking advantage, and truly be accepted and respected by your beloved?" A largely contented Ranma was shown going to work heading his charity-based, self-empowering defence schools for disenfranchised youths with offices placed all over the world... A bewildered Nabiki discretely financing it, and a sea of other organisations... Stuck in an unfamiliar element she could not perceive as herself... Not able to use her talents for any harmful or deceitful ends whatsoever... Studying and practising as a hundred different people... reaching polymath pinnacles of intellectual self-improvement through sheer amassment of expertise... and using it all for the benefit of mankind, for her family, for her acquaintances, for... herself? Was there any piece of her left? Losing her way... being twisted into something alien... tuning in to the obnoxious chiding voice... striving to find joy in preposterous things... straining as her back held up the world... going unassumingly into the still night.

Nabiki vainly tried to look away. It was too much, too quick. Her mind attempted to freeze up in self-defence to its sheer terror, but found itself unable to gain a moment's respite. This was nothing like the soothing nature in the revelations she had experienced a few minutes earlier.

"Will you contract with the dark forces and loosen yourself upon the world at a heretofore unprecedented and unrestricted scale? To be an untouchable nightmare for those who know you, and a universally beloved celebrity to those who listen to your personal media? All the while directing empires of trafficking in arms, drugs, prostitution, enforcement, plunder and corruption from a hundred differing directions, and invading the most intimate regions through a host of mystics at your beck and call?"  
Riches beyond imagining... infiltrating... replacing... deceiving... seducing... moulding... blackmailing... ruining... torturing... trading... and assassinating... any mega star... any official... any patriarch of business... no matter how powerful... all subverted to her service... board pieces to her whims... or destroyed with their necks high or broken... She was immortal... unstoppable... never accountable... everywhere and nowhere... beyond the norms of society... defining them... running indoctrinating infotainment on all levels... Fame, worship, control and leadership in a hundred different fashions... finally freed of all constrictions... revelling in her influence... delighting in every possibility... every leisure... with the geopolitical and ideological landscapes as her personal playthings... Bliss... and yet chiming very lonely and hollow... far beyond the reach of anyone... never getting enough to slake her thirst... building hobby-families to ground herself and reconnect... too far apart... failing and discarding them... no remaining challenge... rotting from the inside... filled with a pit of emptiness... dragging the world down with her despair... sitting eternal amidst a barren wasteland.

Nabiki felt queasy and exposed, sensing how she was simultaneously scrutinised from every angle, as she might have skimmed through a brochure, but overlooking nothing. She drowned as the goddess' overwhelming presence infused her deepest cores, and observed her in absolute sincerity, emphasising every word as they reverberated across her being. "Choose carefully, and choose well." Her dams burst, as she finally accepted the absolute gravity in the situation.

Nabiki was sobbing. "You can't do this to me! What gives you the right? To oppress me... to not let me do what I want! How can I decide everything just like that? ...None of them are the way I'd like."

Peorth's face softened again. "Necessity Mademoiselle Tendo. I am supposed to be impartial, and have always taken pride in ma professionnalisme. It is one reason that I was selected for this. I have to show you every implication, even if I personally find at least one of them shockingly abhorrent. If it is of any consolidation, your memories of this encounter will quickly disappear after we are done. Your destiny is once more open for yourself to mould, but the foundations are set in the here and now. This is the fourth and final great nexus point your life has led towards and centres around; the first three being the passing of your mother, the arrival of the Saotomes, and the scheme that set this boulder rolling."

Nabiki shivered, and downed the second drink that had been thoughtfully placed before her. She straightened her back with more outward composure than her mind could check. "All right, let's get this over with."  
"Tres bien." Peorth rose from her seat, leading Nabiki to stand facing her. A whirlwind encircled them, filled with gleaming runes, yet somehow not touching or interfering with the stationary surroundings. "Do you forswear, to clear, to never bear, the song and whirl and change? Nevermore, never before, to dance a line, insane, sublime, reverting to mundane?"  
Nabiki wiped her eyes, and made an effort to snort in defiance. "Why the pretentious stylised nonsense-speech? Couldn't you just snap your fingers or something?"  
Peorth was visibly straining amidst the mystic tides. Touching glowing circuits and moulding patterns with fingers, glances, beats of her hymns, dancing steps with her toes, even the lengthy strands of her swirling hair. "Magic is leverage. Leverage is movement. Movement is math. Math is structure. Structures are programs. Programs are patterns. Patterns are symbols. Symbols are language. Language is purpose! Make a choice. What would you give? What would you give up? Speak your true-voiced wish. NOW!" 

"I..."

All went white, and a ripple surged through the air, as the partygoers resumed their steps where they had left off, never noticing anything out of the ordinary, or the sudden departure of their former guests.

Fin

ooo

I make my living off the evening news  
Just give me something, something I can use  
People love it when you lose, they love dirty laundry

Well, I could've been an actor, but I wound up here  
I just have to look good, I don't have to be clear  
Come and whisper in my ear, give us dirty laundry

Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down  
Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down  
Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down  
Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em all around

We got the bubbleheaded bleach-blonde, comes on at 5  
She can tell you about the plane crash with a gleam in her eye  
It's interesting when people die, give us dirty laundry

Can we film the operation? Is the head dead yet?  
You know the boys in the newsroom got a running bet  
Get the widow on the set, we need dirty laundry

You don't really need to find out what's going on  
You don't really want to know just how far it's gone  
Just leave well enough alone, keep your dirty laundry

Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down  
Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down  
Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down  
Kick 'em when they're stiff, kick 'em all around

Dirty little secrets, dirty little lies  
We got our dirty little fingers in everybody's pie  
Love to cut you down to size, we love dirty laundry

We can do the innuendo, we can dance and sing  
When it's said and done, we haven't told you a thing  
We all know that crap is king, give us dirty laundry

- Dirty Laundry (C) Don Henley

ooo

"One of the more pretentious political self-descriptions is "Libertarian." People think it puts them above the fray. It sounds fashionable, and to the uninitiated, faintly dangerous. Actually, it's just one more bullshit political philosophy."

- George Carlin 


	16. Omake: Like Fingernails on a Chalkboard

ooo000ooo

"I sometimes think that God in creating man somewhat overestimated his ability."

- Oscar Wilde

"There is a level of cowardice lower than that of the conformist: the fashionable non-conformist."

- Ayn Rand

"Whether they were bank directors or mental cases, the people who were loaded on those trains meant nothing to me. It was really none of my business."

- Adolf Eichmann

ooo000ooo

[Leave your trench coats and flyswatters by the entrance]

The tall dark stranger kept watch by the barely lit bar, as enigmatic figures of shadows and light interacted within the backdrop, barely tamed beasts caged by the violent smatter of pouring rain. He savoured mouthfuls of heavy smoke while awaiting his assignment. Pansies stuck to cigarettes. He knew better. Passive smoking was far more dangerous. He liked dangerous.  
A slinky dame strode in as if she owned the floor, wearing a red tight dress, soaked and clinging to her every curve, and high, high heels to wade in through the ensuing puddle of drool in her path. An infant was stuck comfortably between her massive mammaries. It wore diapers, green-speckled, army-camouflage khaki-diapers. The stranger grunted in acknowledgement, sipped from his shaken, but not stirred, Jolt-spiked Dry Martini, and gave the blonde ice-queen a suave wink to thaw her cold, frozen heart. She sat down, mere inches away. He read her like a book. She was thrown aside, taken advantage of, forgotten, and needed strong male arms to protect and give her respite from this hard, cold, grim, rotten, ugly, twisted, pitiless beat that is life, to make a joint gravel-like, hollow, numb, bitter guffaw at the great cruel joke, and chill demons to the core of their spines. Nobody loves. Not really. There is only survival... lust... and power. Basic. Primal. Simple. A hard fact for a hard man. He knew what she wanted, moved his arm behind her damp shoulders, passing much needed warmth to her chilled supple skin, held his lips next to her ear... and slapped her behind. Thank Cthulhu; he was so going to score some wanton horizontal nihilism-mambo!  
The babe had a deceptively powerful right hook.

Hayato pushed himself up from the floor. "Yo V. mah homey! Whazzuuuup u magnificent archetypical bastard u! Howzit hangin'?" He vainly attempted to do a high-five.  
The baby ignored the outstretched hand, and continued to guzzle from a small milk bottle leisurely kept within a completely toothless grin. "I have a job only you can do... classified, and highly illegal work."  
"Roxxxorz! Oy'll go all Counterstrike on them punk camper asses yo! Represent! U lookin' at da rooling champeeen yo' mama taunt-feedflash über-pwnage sniper-stalker-terrorist-gangsta! Boom! Fyuh! Heeelp meee! Brrrrrrrrpppp-pichouw-pichouw! Aaah-haaa! Schmexxyyyy! Mama's boy beeyatch pussies go beddy-bye wid frag-grenades. Nyeeeehhh!"  
"Boy, do not talk the talk unless ya have any idea what the hell you are saying, and seriously reprioritise the things that bring ya pride. Now I ask ya: Have. Ya. Got. What. It. Takes?"  
Hayato absentmindedly tried to fondle a booby. "Sure V-man, sure, whatevah u say. Wouh! Wouh! Bobobobombom! Sweet mama-jama! Oy = teh hotness!111 xD Realise! Pimp meee out ra-ta-tat!"  
"DO ya?"  
He dragged himself up from the floor again. "Wtf? Not cool man... Awright, awright, chillout, and unlag. Whachu bizniz gig 'xactly? Oy gonna use mah mad skillzzz to hax-bust some major stock-exchange databases, and send lame-o economies in a tailspin?"  
"Naw, I just need an assistant old enough ta buy out whiskey and cigars. I tell ya, this reincarnation stuff really grates on ya after a while."

ooo000ooo

Hayato was getting wise in the ways of the world, as he travelled between nations. The dark, ominous and disgusting things he had to do would make grown men turn and twist in terror in their sleep.  
"Hurry up, will ya! We've got places ta go, and people ta see!" Hayato steeled himself, plugged his nose, and started to change the diaper.

Sometimes, in the afternoon, just before his daily bedtime story at 6 pm, The Veteran would share some suspicious nuggets of random impulsive dementia.

Click!  
"It is said that "evil" must be preserved ta maintain The Balance, so we're basically doing a community service. If anyone asks what said "balance" is in a mathematical sense, why they never heard of this renowned scientific thesis, why it couldn't possibly be moved to equilibrium between greater good and lesser evil, and how that works if "evil" is a subjective definition anyway, shoot the wise guy in the face."  
"Roflmao!"

Click!  
"Power liberates."  
"Oy thought that saying went "corrupts"?"  
"Same difference."

Click!  
"Pain is rage without energy. Meaning, it's basically a sin in itself, and should be wiped out the hard way. The more ya cause, the more justified ya get."

Click!  
"Always have the utmost respect fer other people's crackpot beliefs. A target is a target, is a target. I don't discriminate."

Click!  
Naturally, Hayato eventually wanted a bigger piece of the action. "Fuck mah gaaaaawd! He-he-ha-ha! Bam! Oy wanna frag 'em... Oy wanna frag 'em... wanna, wanna, wanna, wanna. Gonna mess them uuup!"  
"I'm supposed ta be the greedy little kid here. Good things come for those who wait."  
"Oy'll need a +10 broadsword; a chainsaw, a blowtorch; a sizzling wench in a chainmail bikini, a steel-tipped whip, SM dominatrix mask and stiletto heels; and a bunch of red shirts for a romantic Bonnie & Clyde thrill-killing snuff video rampage; then an Abu Ghraib body-pile scene, and steamy wenching in their entrails... and she has to be covered in human blood, have a belt of severed rotting heads, and say "clean me with your tongue, slave" in some depraved wicked queeny accent. Gorn is hot. H-Man in da house for the win. When will we get to the wenching?"  
"What did I just say?"

Click!  
And didn't take well to the bouts of monotony: "Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere... Loookie theeere..."  
"Kiddo, I know that the compulsively obnoxious nasal little douchebag bit runs strong in ya, ta the point where yer not even aware of doing it, but I'm this close ta putting ya out of everyone's misery, and adding another chunk of medals to the collection."

Click!  
But eventually got cleared for some practice: "Look sonny, I'm not exactly in a position to judge, but what's the point of carving "Kick me, I'm French!" "Whip me softly with a chainsaw." "Hobo culling in progress. Please stand by." "Recipe for pancake: See below." "Battlefields are operating tables, and the surgeon is in." "You think that you had a bad hair day?" "The H-Man wuz here, but I wouldn't pay his beer." "Unbreak my heart, and good luck with mopping up the mess." "Bbaaaaawww! I'm a feeble grubby widdle whiny-boy brat. Mock me or fuck off!" "Blood for oil! Blood for oil! I've saved up a couple of gallons!" "Eeyy fugly FAIL faggot-nerd zero zero zero! Yo mama's so fine fer a 10-cent bitch!" "Mind your language. There are ladies present." "Annoying? How gauche! I wouldn't wish to be annoying. Oh wait, I do." or "Candygrams for Mongo." into the bloodied backs of all these downed bastards, spraying them with liquid nitrogen, and rigging their orifices with explosives?"  
"He-ha-hihf-hf-hf! Any artist worth his salt is insane, and Oy'm one of the best. Just wait'll you hear the detonation sequence, rigged in synch with the Swan Lake music score. Oy dare you not to call that brilliant! Du-de-du-du-du-splat-splat-splat-splat..." Hayato hummed along, and picked up an as yet unfrozen severed arm, along with a similarly detached head, did the "Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me." squeaky voice, and used it to repeatedly slap the departed former owner in the face. "Stop hittin' u'self... stop hittin' u'self... stop hittin' u'self. Ay-hu-ha-he-hi-he! Luuuvllly sweeeeeeet! Too-cool. #Juust caaall myyy naame, caall myy name# ...Nuclear, Hitman Buddy Nuclear with license to thrill." He checked out the new high score at the holographic kill-counter custom-designed into his shades. "Awesome! Oy fucking love this thing!"

Click!  
The diminutive Veteran shook his head from the sidelines. "Naw trooper, there's a certain rhythm ta these things. First, make a pose, then torture and rape, then sermonize, then kill, and then make a snappy joke. Not the reverse, and frankly necrophilia is a tad disgusting. It's do it right or die time."  
"Hayato stood straight, arms crossed over his chest, while his back faced the rising sun. "Do u feel lucky punk? Huh? Do u? Fuck dat shit! Rockin' yo' worl' da retro way." A violent beating with the shaft of a Colt Magnum ensued, whereupon he shifted the target to its stomach, and picked up a small triphammer... the less said the better regarding what followed. "Crime never pays bitch. God doesn't love you, he loves me. The Great Old Ones bless us all." He shot the unconscious man in the head. "In yo' face muthafucka! Rest in pieces! And stay dead fool!"  
"The punchlines need some serious work boy."  
"Everyone's a critic dude."

Click!  
"Khaaaaaaaaaaaaan!"  
"That's a pretty darned lousy war cry. It takes way more dum-du-du-dum."  
"Tetsuuuuo!"  
"Naw"  
"Kaneeeeda!"  
"Still no go."  
"Geronimo?"  
"Too hackneyed."  
"Oy'll… Be… Back."  
"Wrong context."  
"THIS IS SPARTA!"  
"Better. It hits all the right xenophobic and anti-academic strings."

This was neural-fed VR. This was experience-point overload. This was n00b-pwning at its finest.


End file.
